Tut the Magnificent
by regertz
Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.
1. Chapter 1

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Prologue and Part I...

Four years previous…

The tall dark-skinned woman in jeans not exactly fitting and loose yellow blouse emerged slowly from the little car she'd reluctantly pulled over to the side of the (reasonably) main street of Hamilton, Gotham State. A few bystanders briefly eyeing her from the sidewalk while keeping back from the scene.

"Hands where we can see 'em!" a young female police officer, gun drawn, her male partner just exiting their car to join her, commanded.

"It's cool…" the woman raised her hands. "What's goin' on, sister?" she eyed the policewoman, rather lovely if professional-looking, hair tightly bunned, steady gaze on her with gun held firmly.

All business this one, Daneil reflected.

"Turn around, hands on the car!" the policewoman commanded.

"Or what, you shoot me, sister?" Daneil asked, but compiled, turning and putting hands on the car.

"Just do it!" the officer insisted, her companion now moving to Daneil and beginning to frisk her…

"Hey! What'd I do?! I wasn't speedin'…"

"She's unarmed. Daneil Moura Freedmont, you are under arrest." The male officer informed her. "You have the right to remain silent…" he began, cuffing her hands behind her back as he did so.

"Fuck that shit!" Daneil fumed, twisting a bit. "You're hurtin' me. I don't know who that bitch is, look at my license…"

"Do not move!" the policewoman commanded sternly, maintaining her position and aim, while speaking periodically into her radio.

"Come on, man…" Daneil tried again. "Just look at…"

"Turn around." The male officer ordered, she turning to face him.

Not bad…She gave him a bit of a smile, then glared. "You got the wrong girl, bro. Come on, look at my license."

"You're under arrest, Ms. Freedmont..." the policewoman noted. "I've called it, Sid." She addressed the male policeman who nodded. "Where's the license?" she addressed Daneil who considered…

If they believed it or got distracted…Might just be a chance…

"In my wallet, in the car…I was gettin' it."

"Stolen, with the car." The policewoman, calmly. "Ok, put her in, Sid and I'll take a look. Yes, subject is secured…" she addressed the phone in answer to a query.

"In…Ma'am." Sid had led Daneil to the police car, opening the rear passenger door.

"This is so much shit…" Daneil fumed. "I'll sue your asses off! Police brutality!" But went in, sitting…

"Carrie Maxwell, the owner…" the policewoman had emerged from the car, holding license. "You took a nice photo, 'Ms. Maxwell', you look twenty pounds lighter and at least five years younger."

"Rude shit to boot…" Daneil glared, with reason given she was in fact only a year older than the actual licensee. "That's me, Ms. Maxwell…" emphasis on the "Ms.".

"First name?" the officer asked.

"Carrie, like you said…"

"That's Ms. Maxwell's middle name, 'Deborah'…" smile. "Come on, lets get her in, Sid. They'll take care of the vehicle."

"Fuckin' blue oreo shits…" Daneil glared. "What are you tryin' to prove?"

Damn…Still, if I can make it out of Gotham State…I can handle Aunt and Uncle Tom police here.

…..

The Hamilton County Women's Jail, in Hamilton, Gotham State.

Daneil in cuffs, seated grimly at desk side.

"Daneil Freedmont, convicted on two counts of murder, three counts armed robbery, escaped Gotham State Penitentiary two days ago, stole a vehicle and clothing, refused initial command to halt, attempted to flee scene." The standing policewoman who'd partnered in Daneil's arrest made a summary to another officer at desk entering information into a computer. "You're a local girl, I see…At least you were born here." The officer entering data noted.

"Like I would be born in this shithole?" glare.

"Ok…Lets get fingerprints and…"

"I'm not this Freedmont bitch!" Daneil tried again. "I wanna lawyer!"

"Quiet." The policewoman, calmly. "If you're not Ms. Freedmont, you oughta be glad to do prints and clear yourself."

"I wanna lawyer…I won't do a thing till I get one." grim tone. She looked around the large jail office, a number of young and a couple of older women at desks as well.

"Put your palm down on that pad." The desk officer commanded.

"Sh…it…I got rights." Daneil tried, but finally complied.

"I said I'll pay the ticket…" a young blonde woman at a desk nearby. "Come on, I was just speeding…I'm in a hurry to get to Gotham City."

"That's nice…I can guess why Ms. Dikas." the policeman taking her info nodded. "But we'll need to process you first…Just follow the officer down the hall."

"If you Goddamn know who I am…My husband will have your balls cut off and my father'll fuckin' put your kids' heads on poles!" the woman cried as she was ordered to stand up by the other officer, a tall red-haired woman.

"When and if he gets out of Gotham State Pen, I doubt your father'll be doing much besides slurping mush in a home." The red-headed officer noted wryly.

"Goddamn you #$( !…I wanna lawyer. I want my husband's lawyer!" the young woman, well-dressed, Daneil noted, eyeing her, insisted as she was led out. But her attention caught by the red-head.

Where the fuck…? Did she bust me once in Gotham? I know I know her from somewhere…

"Just come along and you'll be done in a few minutes, Miss." The other officer assigned to escort Ms. Dikas told her quietly.

"Hey? Isn't that the Tambino broad? Carlo Tambino's daughter?" Daneil peered. "Yeah, she married Dikas, the guy who ran the girls around here…So they say." She added, glancing to the policewoman who'd helped arrest and was now processing her. "Jesus, you fucks are screwed when he finds out about this craps—t." she noted. "That dude and her man Dikas don't fool around, even if Dad is in Gotham Pen. What? Mob princesses don't rate special treatment with you, Aunt Tom?" Daneil addressed the policewoman who did not respond as the young blonde, still complaining was led down the hall, two other young women, one a rather tackily dressed Asian and the other a young black woman, barely out of her teens, also being led down.

Daneil frowning and looking back at the policewoman…

Half-assed operation, they got…Gotham County could do this in…She looked at the policewoman who'd pushed up her sunglasses to read and fill out a form on clipboard.

Nah…

It couldn't be…

She glanced at the officer's name tag for the first time…Should've got that right out and…

Lucretia? Brooks?

The last name's wrong but…

Lucretia?

"Lucretia?" she addressed the policewoman. "You're Lucretia Sinclair?"

The policewoman looked over, eyeing her coolly. "I was…I'm married now…Brooks."

"I know you…You were at Gotham State when I got there in 2012…" Daneil stared. "You were in for…"

Ah, fuck…Sigh. Still…She eyed the policewoman who gave her an arch look.

"It's a match…" the desk officer eyed his screen. "Ms. Freedmont? Care to correct the name you gave us?"

"Fuck you…" Daneil informed him. Turning back to the policewoman…

"Jesus, how could you be Lucretia? She died, they said…OD. And she was in for murder…" stare.

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse and I took it." Lucretia smiled briefly, her face lighting up.

She's beautiful and the other cops don't seem to even care about what I'm sayin' about her…Daneil stared. Lucretia wasn't bad, but this one's forty pounds lighter and…

"What happened to your scar, girl? And your face has changed some…" she asked.

"I got help and I changed my life." Lucretia shrugged, then smiled. "Worked out pretty well…" careful stare. "It could for you too, Daneil."

"Fu…ck…They don't put cons in the police academy, even if you got paroled and you were in for murder. How could you get out and get here?" narrow stare.

Lucretia put up a hand… "I had a few rules bent to give me a new start. Now…Lets get the business end settled here, then maybe we can chat a bit."

"Is this a scam? This isn't a jail…" Daneil looked around…

"It's a jail…Officially. But now more a sort of rehab center…" Lucretia smiled. "Now shut up…Sister, and lets finish and I'll take you where we can talk."

"They said Ma Parker once ran a crime gang in the Gotham Pen…" Daneil eyed her.

"Afraid not, Daneil…We're very much on the side of law and order…" Lucretia smiled. "And yeah, I'm a real cop and proud to be one, thanks be to Tut."

"Tut?" Daneil stared. "What the fuck is…Tut?"

…..

And a full thirteen years earlier…

Hamilton, Gotham…Just north of Gotham City, upstate along the Gotham River.

Once a fairly prosperous middle-and-working class community, largely black and some Asian and poorer European immigrant population. Now, thanks to decades of largely drug-related crime and the resulting economic collapse, the gangs of Gotham finding it a secure haven free from Gotham's already strained justice and police resources, and an overwhelmed and largely corrupted city government, a near hell-hole of misery and suffering, whose largely terrorized, hapless citizens where not corrupted or addicted were too fearful of the local gangs and their powerful Gotham backers to do much more than flee when possible or try to hide in their homes, living their lives in whatever bubbles of vague and transitory safety and security they could create. Those attempting to defy the crime lords or simply trying to improve quality of life often finding themselves the targets of vicious and devastating intimidation, even by those who should have been their protectors, an almost completely corrupted police force. The physical signs of the devastation apparent not only in abandoned, run-down buildings and homes but in the fearful faces of citizens as they emerged to try to live their exterior lives, and above all in the numb, wasted faces of the un- or barely- employed, the many addicts, many homeless, many well on that road…

Below them, on the river, the great and gleaming and uncaring City of Gotham…Its massive towers soaring coldly above the Hamilton skyline, its people unwilling for the most part to concern themselves with the problems of battered, betrayed Hamilton except when its misery spilled over to cause them a moment or two of discomfort. Gotham has its own problems…Even if it has enormous resources and even, its own hero. Now and then, the occasional state-wide candidate makes his or her whistle stop, offers vague promises of reform and action, and swiftly vanishes, never to return and eager to escape, including a few of Hamilton's own who've through fair or foul means managed to escape their home town.

But in the few and diminishing bubbles of security and safety, hope continues to live on…The hope of some that one day the state and federal governments will act, of others, that a mix of old and savvy and new and well-connected residents will come together, determined to bring new opportunities, see Hamilton freed of crime and suffering, still others hope that Gotham, somewhat freed of its own burdens, will bestow its grace upon its desperate brother in need, and some, that Gotham's hero, the vigilante who battled crime to a standstill and gave new hope to help a great city reclaim its soul, will find himself with a bit of time to take pity on the suffering just outside his favored home.

Those varied hopes nowhere reflected better in the pair walking down the rather desolate street before them…Professor Archibald Tuthill, distinguished historian and author, specialty Egyptology and more generally, African/Near East history, a rather grey-haired man in his seventies whose twinkling eyes and sparkling manner belied his strikingly erect and disciplined form, a product of his naval service, and his nine-year old grandson, Henry, being taken to his rather bleak home by his hero and best friend, his grandfather, the famed success story of the family. A grandfather who doted on his clearly brilliant and talented grandson…And feared for him, with justified anxiety.

"So Cleopatra really wasn't black? Mom says…"

"Your mother doesn't know a thing about history, boy." The Professor sighed. "Queen Cleopatra was a Ptolemy, a descendant of one of Alexander the Great's finest generals. The smartest of them all, wise enough not to bid for the whole crumbling empire, just Egypt, the richest piece of the pie. No, she was Macedonian, maybe a touch of Egyptian worked in there somewhere in the woodpile…Who were the real black kings of Egypt, Henry?" he paused, eyeing the boy.

"The Kushites." Henry replied.

"There you go…The true black pharaohs. Who conquered and restored Egypt to greatness. We don't need desperate lies, Henry. We've enough greatness in our history if people will do the work of digging it out. The great lost civilizations are there to study and learn from. The great learning center, Timbuktu, The Empire of Great Mali…Ethiopia…And we played a role in Egypt…And Rome…And Byzantium."

"I still like Tut, Grandpa…" smile.

"He was African if not black." Nod. "And a great leader who rallied his people, though he died too young…"

"Tut…It's like our name. Maybe we're descended from him."

The Professor sighed…But eyes twinkled. "Maybe…Nothing's impossible. In any case you could be the leader he wanted to be, Henry. If you try hard enough. How's school?"

"Good. I like biology the most, though history's ok."

"'Ok'?" mock frown.

"Grandpa…"

"Well, Biotech is the wave of the future, they say. But don't forget History, Henry…Remember, those who forget History…"

"..Are condemned to repeat it." Henry nodded.

"Good. So…School is good, eh? But it's not the Academy you're going to these days, is it?"

Henry, nervous look…

"Don't lie for her, boy." Sigh. "Your mother is no damned good. I've known it for years. It's not her fault, entirely." He shook head. "My little girl died years ago when she was swallowed up…And that's my fault. I was hell-bent on making my way in the field, whatever it cost and I didn't keep watch on her then as I should've, once she left us. Nor have I done my duty by you and Pam, now. Henry…For the love of God, I'd rather see you and your sister dead then swallowed up like your mama. Don't hate her, but you and your sister have got to get away from her. And that sob she's living with now. Jack, isn't it?"

"Jack…" nervous nod.

"I never should have let her keep you two after she got out…But I'd hoped, with that man gone for good, having you to care for... And she did seem…" sigh. "But she fooled me…Or to be honest, I let her fool me, so I could keep focusing on my work. And after your grandma died, I couldn't think straight and I couldn't see clear how I could care for the two of you. But she taking you out of the Academy and I know why…To smoke that tuition money…Is the last straw. Boy, do you want to stay with me?"

"Grandpa…" Henry gasped, pushing glasses up nose. "Yes." He paused. "But I'm scared for Mama. She's so sick and Jack hurts her, sometimes. When she doesn't have money for him…"

"I can imagine…" sigh. "This is my fault, Henry. I will put it right, starting tonight. You and your sister are coming home with me, to stay. I'll do what I can for your mother, but you and Pam are staying with me."

"Please…" Henry breathed. "Please, grandpa…I hate it there. And Pammy is scared of Jack…"

"Lord…" grimace. "Has he hurt her? Henry?"

"I don't think so, grandpa. But he scares her."

"That ends tonight." Grim look… "If I have to put the bastard in prison and Anna with him…Or worse…Seeing his grandson's frightened face he calmed.

"I won't do that, Henry. So long as she lets you both go." They continued on.

"So...Biology, eh?" sigh.

"I like it, Grandpa. I like History too but… And what I really like is Neurobiology."

"Well, a man must follow his heart." Nod. "And it's an exciting field these days."

"They're making people better…" Henry, eagerly. "Fixing the brain…"

"Is that so?" smile. "Boy, you hoping to help your mother?"

"Yes." Firm nod. "I want to make her well again."

"I see…You know cures like that, and learning to make them takes years."

"I'll work hard, Grandpa. I want to help Mama. She's not really bad. She just needs help."

"A boy should love and forgive his mother." Sigh. "But Henry, you have to understand that you may not be able to help her. The best you and Pam may be able to do is to get and stay away from her. You do understand that I love my daughter but I can't help her? And you may have to be strong enough not to let her pull you and Pam down."

"I won't, Grandpa. But I'll try to help her when I can. Someday. Maybe if we could get the bad people to leave…Then she couldn't get that stuff so easy. And Jack would have to go with them."

"Jack is going…I can promise you that, Henry. At least out of your and Pam's lives. As for your mother, that's up to her."

"My friend Tim says the Bat chased them out of Gotham, the bad ones…" Henry noted. "Maybe he'd come here and chase them away. Maybe if you asked him, Grandpa?"

"The Bat…Well, he's a vigilante, Henry. One can't be sure what his motives are. What we need are decent, clean cops and a mayor and city council with guts. And people not afraid to back them up…We had a little of that, once but then it all went south…"

"If you spoke to him, Grandpa. I think he'd come." Henry insisted.

"Batman protects Gotham…I don't say he doesn't care about all the people, heck he might be black or Hispanic for all anyone knows, but his interest is strictly Gotham. But, if he'll ever listen, I'll gladly ask him, Henry. Anyway, after tonight, you and Pam will be living with me. You'll go back to the Academy and you'll go into Neurobiology or wherever your fate and hard work takes you. Pam too. I know she's big on fashion…" smile.

"She likes lots of things. She told me she'd like to be a lawyer one day." The boy noted as they turned the corner to his street.

"A lawyer? Impressive…" Professor Tuthill did a mock-Darth Vader tone. "Maybe she's the one who got my genes on history?" grin.

"She's smart…" Henry nodded. "You'll take us away, her and me? Tonight?"

"I'll tell your mama tonight, we may have to argue it out in court. But I will get you two away from her. I have a few friends who can help and God knows your mother's left a sad trail."

They approached a house, a few lights on…Music blaring from one room.

A young, pretty girl seated with rather wistful look, in an outfit of tight blouse and jeans a bit adult for her, one that made the Professor, her grandfather, frown…

"Nerdoff!" she called to Henry who beamed.

"Pam!" he waved.

"Grandpa…" she eyed Professor Tuthill who nodded to her.

"Pamela. What are you wearing, child?"

"Just my stuff…Mama's not feeling well so I took what was dry. Jack said it was ok."

"Did he…?" frown. "Where is your mother?"

"She's lyin' down…Where'd you go, Henry?"

"Grandpa took me to the museum in Gotham…Then we went to dinner…"

"I'm sorry you couldn't come, Pam." The Professor eyed her.

"I had to take Mama shoppin' I told you…" she frowned. "Mama was too sick to go alone, so Jack said I should."

"Well, next time…" the Professor nodded kindly. "I need to see your mother for a moment, she's alone?"

"Yeah…Jack just left to go to the store." Shrug.

"Pam…" Henry, unable to contain his excitement… "We're gonna go live with Grandpa, in his house."

She stared... "What the shit..?"

"Don't swear, girl." Professor Tuthill frowned. "You shouldn't need to learn to speak like a lady."

"Sorry…" offhand wave… "Mama's sick, we can't go. And she won't let us."

"Your mother's very sick but you can't help her." The Professor noted, firmly. "But you and Henry are going to come live with me."

"No…" Pam shook head. "We need to stay with Mama, she needs us. Jack…"

"Jack's never going to bother you and if your mother will listen, her, ever again." The Professor, grimly. "I'll be just a minute…Henry, you and Pam wait here." He entered the house and turning on a light, went up the front stairs.

"We can't leave Mama…Jack'll hurt her." Pam shook head. "He'll be f-ing pissed if I go."

"You can't stay here, Pam." Henry, anxiously.

"Did you tell Grandpa?" she eyed him.

"I told him you were afraid of him."

"Shit…It's none of his business…"

"He wants to…" Sounds of argument now from above…A shout…A vague stream of epithets, fading volume.

"Anne." The Professor's voice, firm and strong.

"We have to go, Pam." Henry insisted. "We can get Mama later. But we have to go now. Jack wants to put you on the street…" he paused. "Or he'll hurt you till he kills you."

"I can take care of myself, Henry." She frowned. "I don't need you or that old man."

"Did you…?" he eyed her. "Pam?" Staring at her eyes… "You did…"

"Leave me alone!" she got up and went into the house.

Halting as Professor Tuthill came down the stairs…Calm manner. "Pam, you and Henry get some clothes, we're leaving. I've called a cab."

"I'm not going anywhere." She frowned. "Mama needs me."

"Pam…" Henry pleaded. "Grandpa, she's gotta go with us."

"She will. Pamela…" the Professor sternly. Eyeing her face keenly… "Good God, child? Are you high?"

"None of your business…" she grimaced, pulling back. "Take the nerdoff and get outta here. I've gotta stay with Mama."

"That's right!" cry from the top of the stairs… "Pammy! Don't you leave your mama alone!"

"Goddamn you, Anne! Did you feed this child drugs?!" the Professor cried.

"Jack gave her them…" Henry, quickly. "He wants to put her out on the street."

"Jesus…F-off, the two of you!" Pam glared.

"Get some clothes and do it now." Professor Tuthill, grimly. "Henry, get Pam something decent to wear and your own things and we're going. Anne, I'm taking both of them and if you do anything to get them back I'm going to have you charged. I mean it this time!" He called up the stairs.

"Come on, Pam. We've got to go." Henry whispered to the glaring Pamela.

"Babies! Don't leave me! Don't leave your mother! I'm sick!" Anne's voice from above. "Pam? Jackie'll kill me if you're gone!"

"Anne. If you really believe that, put some clothes on and come with us. You can stay tonight and then…" Tuthill, sighing.

"You're not stickin' me in some hospital! Or jail! I know you, old fucker!" scream.

"Henry…" the Professor waved him to the stairs. "Get the things and we'll go."

"No." Pam firmly. "I can't go…"

"Child, you've got to go, if I have to call in the police to make you go." Professor Tuthill insisted.

Henry, climbing the stairs, facing the haggard if still young face of his mother, Anne Tuthill…

"You want to leave me…You little bastard…That's what you are…A little bastard…" Anne glared at him as he passed, then stroked him briefly. "Don't leave Mama, honey…Please."

Briefly grabbing at jeans and a reasonably respectable blouse in Pam's room, Henry passed on to his where he quickly grabbed a bookbag and stuffed in Pam's clothes and a few of his own, along with some school books and his most precious possession, a museum edition profile of the life of young Prince and Pharaoh Tutankhamun, signed by his grandfather's colleague, the author, a fellow Egyptologist.

He hurried out and passed his mother, now on cell phone, speaking frantically…

Jack…He realized.

He hurried down…

"Grandpa…Mama's called Jack. We'd better…" He looked round.

"Grandpa!" he called.

"Henry…" Professor Tuthill stumbled back from the hallway, his chest now covered in blood, gasping…Clutching the large knife he'd just pulled out of himself…Collapsing onto the floor, as Henry stared.

"Henry…" Pam gasped, emerging from the hallway darkness, hands outstretched. "I just wanted him to go…" she pleaded.

He backed away in horror…And ran out into the night…Passing a car that pulled to the curb.

"Hey, you little fuck!" Jack's voice reaching him as he ran on…

Grandpa, Grandpa…He murmured as he ran…

….

Present day Gotham…

"Mr. Wayne…Danielle Dane, Greater Gotham News 6…" The tall smiling man turned to eye the equally tall, lithe figure addressing him.

"Yes?" he regarded the said Ms. Dane, an increasingly well-known face in Gotham and Greater Gotham media.

A rather lovely if currently quite determined face, Bruce Wayne couldn't help noting to himself. Her deep brown eyes in set in a glowing dark-skin face, framed by loose curls.

She for her part not bowled over by what she was seeing in the reasonably handsome, rather better than expectedly well-built Wayne…Must be nice to have a personal gym in several homes and apartments, a professional club, and trainers, not trainer…She thought briefly…But pleased by his genial manner.

Either Wayne's not quite the recluse she'd been told of or he's had a good day with the Crime Commission…

"Thanks…" she acknowledged his gracious pausing for her question. "Were you pleased with today's hearing of the Commission?"

"I was." Firm nod. "Gotham's had a very good year in terms of crime reduction. I think we owe a huge debt of gratitude to Commissioner Gordon's efforts along with the entire police force, the Mayor, and the Civic Commission. Gotham's made what I think is a lasting dent in crime, particularly violent crime."

"With of course due credit to your commission and the efforts of the Wayne Foundation…" she noted.

"We're just civilian advisers…Volunteers and there are many of us, from all walks of life…We've tried to help. I know some of us have helped, I hope I'm one among them."

"But you are a leading voice on the Commission and your Foundation has funded several key initiatives…"

"I'm one among many…And while I don't deny funding helps…The Wayne Foundation is just one of a number of nonprofit funding agencies. It's the men and women who've come up with these new initiatives to combat dangerous crime while reducing unnecessary and unfair sentences for lower end crime and things, I at least, can't consider crimes and pushed new economic incentives to curb poverty and provide better paying jobs at livable wages that have done the real work…And above all those who've been out on the streets as law enforcement, social workers, teachers, new entrepreneurs."

"And your own special friend, Batman." She suggested.

"Batman is hardly my friend but I do know him slightly. Perhaps as much as Commissioner Gordon or the Mayor. And yes, he's been a great help and something of an inspiration. But, although he has been deputized…He is a vigilante…And I like to think that he as well as I and most citizens hope the day is coming when we don't need a man in a cape to help defend this city." Stern gaze.

"Really?" she moved a hair closer… He smelling her perfume, a modest, yet faintly alluring scent…

Bruce…He cautioned himself…Smiling again.

"You think the time has come for Batman to step out of the shadows? Reveal himself to us?"

"No. Not necessarily. I wouldn't endanger the man or any family he may have… But…It might be near the time for him to retire and hang up his cape. Do whatever it is he does in his real life. And leave law enforcement to the professionals. I hope he doesn't take that the wrong way, we're all grateful for his efforts and the risks he's taken. But I hope he'll return to his own life, perhaps continue to assist as a citizen…In fact I hope he'd be pleased to feel his efforts have helped to make this the time to do so." Wayne nodded. "Or at least, it soon will be."

"There are other cities and areas that need help…Even here in Gotham State." Ms. Dane noted.

"There are, for certain. And I hope Gotham will be able to reach out to them…" he nodded.

"But not Batman?" she eyed him.

"That's his decision…And those other communities…But again I hope, personally, the day is coming when he won't need to wear a mask and act outside our regular law enforcement. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne." She nodded, warm smile, turning back to face her cameraman. "Bruce Wayne, giving us a few words on the work of Gotham City's Crime Commission, following the release of this quarter's crime statistics for the City. Good news for the vast majority of us…And an intriguing notion that our famed mysterious, if deputized, vigilante, Batman, might soon be able to hang up cape and cowl and resume whatever life he's led as a citizen of Gotham. Danielle Dane, Greater Gotham News."

"And that's…Not exactly world-shaking but fine." The lanky, long-haired, blonde cameraman, Woody James sighed, shrugging.

"Come on…" Danielle mock-frowned at him. "There's a little good news to report. It doesn't always have to be gloom and doom, Woodman."

"Sure…" shrug. "But the doom and the gloom make the 11 o'clock slot. This won't make 6am."

"Stanley'll put it on. Maybe not right at 11 but…" she smiled.

"Nice to have such a friend in our news producer…" Woody grinned.

"Hey…" she mock-glared. "Stanley is just that."

"But he'd like to be so much more…" teasing tone.

"So would they all…" she breathed, laughing. "Don't be mean, Woodman. Stanley's always been a gentleman and he listens. I can tell you that's a little rare…"

"He's a prince, so long as he puts us on in a decent time slot. That was a nice bit about Batman…Hang up his cowl?"

"Wayne suggested it…" she shrugged. "And maybe he's right. The caped one might be looking a bit ridiculous in a city that doesn't need fantasy heroes but more real, down-to-earth ones."

"Like Bruce Wayne?" smile.

"He's done his share…Sorry if I admire a capitalist stooge, Herr Marx." She grinned.

"As they go, he's not the worst…And I'm a Social Revolutionary, not a Marxist." Smile.

"Who, if he wants to eat, needs to get this film in…" she noted. "I'd like to give you a hand with the editing again…I promise not to muck it up."

"Danielle Dane gets behind the camera as well as in front…" he grinned.

"I just like to know how it all works…Don't wanna be just a bubble-headed moron on camera." She noted.

"You're already getting a good handle on it all. But you're welcome to join me and the techno geeks if you buy pizza for dinner."

"Done. " she nodded. Ooops… "Hold that thought a mo…Phone…" she pulled out cell. "Dane here. What? Oh…Hello…." She syed the intrigued James. Bruce…Wayne…She mouthed.

Really?

"…I'm flattered. Especially that you went to the trouble of getting my number…And got it so quickly. It's unlisted, you know? No…Unless you are some sort of pervert." Smile.

He is…James mouthed. "But go out with him anyway. You might get something spicy."

"No, I hope not too." She chuckled into the phone. "No, not quite a complete ass. Look, I would love to talk to you about the Commission but I'd want to make it strictly…Right, business. Ok. Well, sure I know it…Eight. Tell me you didn't get my home address?" she told the phone.

Pervert…Big time…Woody mouthed. "But get the story."

Quiet…She mouthed in reply. "Good, I'll meet you there. Ok, then…Eight at VanDyck's. Ok. Thanks." She hung up.

Whoa…James grinned. "Dinner and God knows what with Gotham's most legible when not burning down his own house, playboy?"

"A drink and an interview…Shut up." She mock-frowned. "Come on, lets get that bit set up with the guys so I can go home and change."

"Sure you don't wanna go home now and primp up for a few hours…?" he ducked as she threw her mike at him, holding cord to keep it from striking him or the ground.

"Shoo you." She grinned. "Woody, don't make a deal of this would ya?" she asked. "Wayne might really have something to say and I don't wanna get a rep. You know what kind…" sigh.

"A rep in our business…Well, yours, not mine, thank God…Is standard, part of the entry fee, Beautiful."

"I hope not." She frowned. "Woody, don't say that."

He sighed at her earnest look. God, kid…For someone who's been in the business awhile. With your brain. And looks the way you do. You are just an innocent lamb…

Still, I prefer you this way…Only…God …May you never have to learn things the hard way.

…

"Guess I made a complete ass of myself there, huh Alfred?" Wayne addressed his chauffeur, butler, manager, and friend, Alfred as they sat in his limo, Alfred driving carefully along the wet street toward the interstate out of town.

"Afraid so, Master Bruce." Alfred nodded. "But that's all part of the game, I always understood. And sometimes the lady appreciates the willingness to endure humiliation."

"Lets hope so." Wayne grinned. "Alfred?" he hesitated.

"What did you think about what I said…About Batman…?"

"'Hanging up his cowl'? You mean, sir?"

"Yeah…What did you think?"

Long sigh. "I've always hoped the day would come when you could do so, Master Bruce." Alfred, voice steady… "But I don't think the day has quite come, much as we both might earnestly wish it. I am glad, though…" pause.

"That I can talk about it, myself?" Wayne finished. "Alfred, I can and one day I hope to. I could actually feel the day coming today. No big dramatic victory to mark it…Just a feeling things are finally, slowly coming to where they should be…"

"That would be a grand day, sir. I hope to see it." Wan smile.

"Alfred?" stare.

"Not referring to my condition, sir. Which remains quite good, thanks to Dr. Fries' cure, I assure you." Pause. "It's just I fear your quest to put all things right may well not end with peace in Gotham City. You're too much your father's son, I fear. And that good friend of mine wouldn't settle for achieving peace in one city. I heard the young lady." He sighed.

"She's right. There are other places that need help, Alfred."

"But you can't help all of them, dear boy. Some must find their own help, outside of what you might be able to do for them as Bruce Wayne…" sound of buzzing from Wayne's back seat laptop.

"Wayne…Henry?" beam. "Alfred? It's Henry."

"Please give young Dr. Tuthill my best, sir." Alfred called back, raising a transparent but sound-proof piece between his front area and Wayne in the rear.

"Hello, the competition…" Wayne, cheerily as the face of young Henry Tuthill in glasses and casual round-collared red shirt beamed at him from his screen.

"Bruce, hi!"

"How are things at Jensen, Henry? I hear some great things."

"We're moving…Don't forget to buy our stock." Grin.

"The competition? Never…" chuckle. "How's the dragon girl?"

"She's really not that bad, Bruce." Reproving look. "But we're getting on ok. She's still giving me my head."

"She ought to. Tell her the competition says so." Bruce smiled. "How are things at home? How's Pam?"

"She's well. Mom's mom but not bad these days. Alfred ok? Mr. Gordon?"

"Very good, both. As is Jim's family. So? This about Hamilton's Day?"

"Just wanted to remind you." Smile. "Everyone's looking forward to seeing the Man, you know."

"Hardly but I'll be there. So, not prying into the competition's secrets but what's new on your horizon, Henry? Anything good?"

"I'm continuing the neural regeneration work. We might be on to a few things. Can't say more."

"Not to your chief competitor, even if you've left him in the dust long ago. It sounds great, Henry."

"I'll try to show you a little when you come by, if we can sneak off to Jensen." Henry smiled. "Hopefully I can still impress my old boss a bit."

"You've never failed to yet." Smile. "I'm looking forward to the celebration, Henry. It'll be great to see you and your folks again. And I keep hearing good things about Hamilton these days."

"Well…Things are better." He nodded. "We may not have Batman, but we had his good buddy, Bruce Wayne…Maybe that's all we really needed."

"You did it, Henry…You and the folks there. I just seeded a few trees and made a little money in the process."

"Well, we don't forget our friends, Bruce." Henry, fondly. "We've had too few of them over the years to forget them. Everyone'll be very pleased to see you."

"I won't fail them." Wayne nodded. "Give my best to Pam and your other folks. And to Jennifer J, if she really is behaving herself."

"I will, Bruce. Thanks." The screen went blank.

"You never do." Henry nodded to the laptop at his desk.

"So Bruce Wayne is coming? Sir?" the voice of a woman standing next to his desk.

"Certainly. Bruce never lets us down. So, are these the new production figures?" he eyed a screen on which said figures were displayed.

"Yes, Henry. Growth rates have been increased by twenty-five percent and we now have 110% capacity for the city population."

"That's good. But if we're to expand we'll need to push the growth rate further. We can't be short when we attempt expansion, we can't count on cover once we spread out from the city, Jen."

"No…My Lord." Jen…Jennifer Jensen, the lovely young owner of Jensen Biotech, petite but clearly quite a marked character, now perhaps even lovelier if rather less arrogant than her fame or better, infamy, had once claimed, nodded.

"You're heading for the international board meeting?"

"Yes, my Lord. In Paris."

"Great. Well, you have your agenda with them. Have a fine time…Get in some sight-seeing, I mean if you'd like to…"

"Yes, Lord. I was never one for sightseeing, my Lord. But if you will it…"

"No, just try to enjoy yourself. Without hurting anyone else, please?" he cautioned. "Not meaning to offend..."

"Never, sir. I could be awful at times, it's true. I did like collecting art…On other trips..." she hesitantly noted. "But my greatest joy now…Oh, Tut…"

"By all means…Collect away." He noted, hastily cutting off her panegyric. "I mean, within reason."

"Yes, Lord." Nod.

"And maybe try doing something new. Maybe just a little sightseeing, see if you like it." He smiled.

"I live to serve, Lord." She nodded.

"No…I mean if you like it, Jen. And maybe see if you find someone nice…?"

"Lord?"

"I mean…You might wanna have a fling? Jennifer Jensen was famous that way, you know…You remember?"

"Yes, Lord." Nod. "Shall I have sex with someone while in Paris?"

He sighed. "Only if you'd like to , Jen…And if he or she likes you. Ok?"

"Yes, Lord."

"And remember to perk up a little…Be Jennifer…Maybe a less nasty, more socially concerned, Jennifer, though?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Ok, you'd better get home and get a good night's sleep. And wake up as independent Jen, much as you can, right?"

"Yes, my Lord." Bow…Pause…

"Yes?" he eyed her.

"If I may…Regards Wayne…"

"No. Certainly not." Henry frowned. "Don't speak or think of it again, Jen."

"No…I will never speak or think of it again, my Lord Tut." She bowed and left the office.

He clicked mouse to open a screen window.

"Hello…" the beaming young woman stared out from the screen. "My name is Danielle Freedmont. And I want to talk to you about how I turned my life around, with the help of the Tut Society…"


	2. Chapter 2

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part II...

Thirteen years previous, the night of Professor Tuthill's murder…

A weary, rather sodden figure emerged from a heavily forested area just off Gotham State Parkway…Bruce Wayne, in somewhat casual, if still clearly expensive and elegant, clothes, nursing an injured arm, trying as best he could to find a little shelter from the fairly steady rain in the last trees on the Parkway's edge. He carefully dialed a cell phone in the dark. Rain beading on the phone's screen…

"Alfred? Yes, I'm all right…" sigh. "Though I've got to say the Bookworm turned out to be a bit more challenging physically than I'd expected. He had a little arsenal of his own…Afraid the car took a couple of phosphorus bombs. No, I'm ok, the shielding protected me, just burned a little on my arm. No, he and his last men are dead, they went over a cliff, trying to outrun me. I'm afraid the Da Vinci manuscript went with them. No, we will never know if there was something to that code…" smile. "You ought to stop reading those novels, Alfred. Ow…" as he chuckled. "No, no…I'm ok. But I had to leave the car, there's some damage to the engine from the fire bombs. Camouflaged in the woods and secure, we'll have to have it picked up by the team later. So, I'm going to need a…You don't have to come out, Alfred. I just couldn't reach a…"

He turned at the sudden appearance of a small boy running past, clearly in tears and badly shaken…

"Hey…!" he called to the boy. "Hey, you can't go out on the Parkway here, son! Just a mo, Alfred!" he told the phone, hurrying after the boy.

"Kid! Wait! It's too…" his unformed warning verified immediately by the appearance of a large truck rushing past, barely dodging the boy who continued running, apparently not even noting his near brush with death.

"Kid!" Wayne hurried after, finally closing in. The boy suddenly turned, staring… "Get away!" he cried.

"Kid, you can't run on the Parkway like this. In this rain they can't see you, you'll get hurt."

The boy, breathing heavily now, clearly at the edge of his strength.

"Look, I'm waiting for a ride, I can take you home. Or get hold of someone or your own cab. Do you live round here?" he eyed the soaked, sodden clothes. Noting the blood on his shirt…

"Hamilton, I live back there…" the boy pointed.

"Kid, that's blood. Are you hurt?"

"No…No…" the boy shook head. "My grandpa…"

"Was he hurt? Is he in his car?" Wayne asked, carefully.

"He's dead…" the boy, trembling.

"Maybe not…We can get an ambulance." Wayne suggested. "Alfred? You still with me?" he pulled up the phone.

"He's gone…" the boy shook head. Trembling and weeping now…

"Alfred, we need an ambulance here. A boy's been hurt and his grandfather as well. Can you get them out here asap? Good. Yeah, I guess so…But I hate to drag you out here. Ok…Good. Thanks, Alfred." He closed the phone.

"My friend's got an ambulance coming and he's coming too. What's your name, son?" he eyed the shaking boy. "Here, my sweater's wet outside as well, but it's lined…" He pulled off sweater, leaving a white shirt which quickly soaked, putting it carefully on the boy who did not resist it being put on.

"You're getting soaked, sir."

"That's ok. I'll be fine. I'm Bruce, by the way."

"Henry…" the boy gasped. "Henry Tuthill…"

"Nice to meet you, Henry. Where is your grandfather? Is he down the road?"

"He…He's at the house." The boy shook head, swaying now.

"Ok, ok…" Bruce caught him as he collapsed. "We'll get help to him and see if we can do anything. It'll be ok, Henry."

Henry gasped as Bruce held him. "You better sit down." Bruce suggested, carefully lowering him.

"I'm sorry…" Henry breathed, gasping for air, pushing glasses back to try and get a better look at his rescuer as he sat on the ground.

"It's no trouble. I'm sorry for you. But lets see if anything can be done, ok? Can you tell me how far your house is?"

"Way…Back…There…" Henry, pointing back down the road. "Long way…I've been…Running…"

"So I saw, Henry. Henry, were you hurt?" Bruce asked.

"No…Grandpa…"

"Ok…I just wanted to be sure. We'd better wait here if it's a ways. Is there anyone near your house we could call? Someone who could check on your grandpa?"

"He's dead…" sigh, shake of head.

"Maybe…But I've found it's best to let a doctor decide that." Bruce eyed him. "So, anyone?"

"Mrs. Ray…She's a couple of houses down. My friend Tim's mom…I have the number…"

"Good, lets have it. I'll call her." Bruce nodded, opening phone. Dialing as the boy gave a number.

"Hello…Is this Mrs. Ray? Hi, I'm with Henry Tuthill here…Yes, the Tuthill boy…Ok, the police are there? Ok. No, the boy's fine. He's out here on the Parkway with me, my car broke down and I found him wandering out here. Yes? I'm Bruce Wayne. Yes." Slight sigh. "Thanks, but I've got an ambulance coming for Henry, we can bring it…Oh…I see. Alright. Are his parents? Ok, his mother…Right…Yes, I see. " Sigh. "Is there anyone else? Ok, well…Maybe the best thing is for me to have them bring him to Gotham General, check him over and call his sister or you later? Yeah…"

"Pam? Pam's ok?" Henry, anxiously. Catching himself from asking if the police had taken her…

"Ma'am? Henry wants to know if his sister…? She's ok." Bruce nodded to Henry. "I understand…Yeah, let me give you my number to give the police and the sister. And I'll try reaching the police myself. Thank you, Mrs. Ray. Yes? Sure…I'll see if he can talk… Henry? Do you want to tell Mrs. Ray anything?"

Henry, shaking head.

"I don't think he feels much like talking now, ma'am. But he's ok, just wet and shaken a bit, I think. I'll have the doctors check him out at the hospital. Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Ray, I appreciate it. I'll be in touch soon. Bye." He closed phone.

"Archibald Tuthill? Your grandpa?" he looked at Henry who nodded.

"I know him, a great teacher and writer."

"He is dead, isn't he?" Henry, looking up at Wayne.

"I'm afraid so, Henry. I'm truly sorry."

Henry, nodding, shaking…Suddenly weeping, stretching on the ground…

"The police have the man…" Bruce noted. "He didn't get away."

"The man?" Henry looked up. "They have a man?"

"You didn't see…What happened?"

"No…" pause. "Just Grandpa was bleeding…There was a knife…I ran…I…Ran…Away…"

"Probably the best thing you could've done, Henry. You couldn't have saved him. But your mother and sister are ok too. They got out…" Wayne paused. "I'm afraid the police decided to arrest your mother with the man and your sister's going with them, just for now. I'll see she gets to the hospital and we'll get her checked too, ok?"

Henry nervously staring, nodded… "Yeah. Yes, please…" he paused. "You're Bruce Wayne?"

"Afraid so…Yeah." Bruce nodded, smiling. "Not quite so impressive as my photos, huh?"

"No." Henry agreed. "Thanks."

"Sure." Nod, smile. As an ambulance siren's wail reached them.

"Here they come…" Wayne noted.

"Can you come with me?" Henry asked, anxiously.

"If they'll let me…Or I'll have my friend drive me to the hospital, right behind you."

"Ok…" Henry nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Were you hurt, Mr. Wayne?" Henry asked. "You seem kinda stiff on that arm."

"I got it a little burned…Accident with my car…Not bad but probably I should see a doc, too. So, convenient that we're heading for a hospital."

"Yeah." Henry nodded.

"You a historian, too? Like your grandfather?" Bruce asked.

"I like it but I wanna do Science…Neurobiology. I told…Grandpa…Tonight…"

"I'm sure you'll make him proud."

"I will." Henry nodded, standing up carefully, Wayne quietly helping him. As the ambulance now in sight, came over a hill, lights flashing.

….

Gotham General Hospital…

Emergency room…Staff hurrying about…

"Is the boy going to be alright?" Alfred, in still rather elegant sweater and slacks, raincoat carefully hung, asked Wayne as he stood in a curtairned-off room, by the gurney on which Wayne was trying to lie reasonably still.

"I guess so…He wasn't hurt except for the shock and the rain…"

"Poor boy…The police did apprehend the murderer?" Alfred, carefully.

"Looks like it. Some boyfriend of the mother…Drugs were involved." Bruce shook head. "God…I never thought Archie Tuthill had that in his family."

"Professor Tuthill worked his way up…I've read his biography, along with his books." Alfred noted.

"I guess…That poor kid, Alfred. And his sister…"

"The mother?"

"The police say she's pretty out of it. And has a record that stretches…" sigh. "Coming over in the ambulance, Henry told me Dr. Tuthill had been meaning to take him and his sister away, to live with him. I guess the boyfriend objected…" Wayne sighed.

"Dear God…" Alfred shook head. "What a waste…"

"I don't want to spread it about Alfred…" Bruce, lowering voice. "But the cop I spoke to said the sister was high as well. Seems the boyfriend was trying to get her hooked…So a neighbor told the cops, a lady I spoke to. The mother was pretty much incoherent. They caught the boyfriend fleeing the scene, blood on him."

"My God…" Alfred stared.

"As soon as things settle a bit, I'll see if I can get the girl to some safe treatment place nearby. I don't know if I can help the mother, she's likely to be charged for violation of parole as well as possession and accessory to murder. As for Henry…" he rubbed his face.

"Yes." Alfred nodded thoughtfully.

"What?" Wayne stared.

"Young Master Grayson's gone to continue his college career, his room's empty and so is the house. The boy needs a home." Alfred, simply. "As will the sister, but the boy is our concern now."

"I don't know…There may be other relatives…And I couldn't take a chance having someone around, I mean Dick knew the situation from the start…"

"Temporary, then. Until something permanent is worked out. We can see to that later…"

Wayne eyeing Alfred's unruffledly calm stare back…

That old English fox…Something told me he took the whole "hang up my cowl" thing too lightly.

"Alfred. I can't just walk off with a boy…" he noted.

"Therein we see the power of wealth, put to use in a good cause." Alfred smiled. "I took the liberty of setting up some calls on speeddial." He offered phone.

Wayne eyeing him, chuckling, taking phone, looking over screen… "Alfred. Where would I be without you?"

"I hate to think on it, Master Bruce." Smile.

"Hello, this is Bruce Wayne. Sorry to call so late…" Wayne began.

….

Present day Gotham…The Bar Room at VanDyck's… A fairly secluded booth…

"Oddball mix of old Dutch and modern…" Danielle Dane noted, looking about the room.

"I find it a bit comforting…Mixing the old and new…" Wayne, looking his image in suit, she noted to herself, smiled.

"True enough…" she agreed. "Though a bit clashy…" she regarded an old Dutch print of the colony of New Gotham above a strikingly minimalist wooden chair.

"The Dutch are very modern in style." Wayne, mock-solemn, eyes twinkling a bit as she regarded him with mock frown.

"And of course we're nowhere to be found…"

"Women and African-Americans…?" Wayne offered.

"I was going to say the Irish…" she grinned. "Sure and like O'bama, I'm part Gaelic."

"I hear it in the lilt…" Wayne nodded. An attentive waiter stopping by to ask if Mr. Wayne and Ms. Dane required another drink or anything else.

"Another glass of the same for me…" Wayne told him. "Miss Dane?"

"Mmmn…Not another glass but I'd like a cup of the chowder." Danielle eyed the menu.

"How about dinner?" Wayne suggested.

"Nah…Just need a little something…Thanks, that'll do me." Ms. Dane smiled to the waiter.

"Well, I'll take a burger…Medium well, lettuce and ketchup. I guess you'd best hold fries and make it a house salad. And I'll take a cup of the chowder, too. " he addressed the waiter who nodded and headed off. "Sorry, I'm a bit starved here. Couldn't stop for lunch."

"Please…" she smiled, putting up a hand. "I actually had a little pizza before I came, I was working with my camera crew, trying to learn the editing process."

"Really?" Bruce nodded. "So you like to get into the nuts and bolts…?"

"It's my career. I oughta know how it works." She shrugged, smiling. Her suit a businesslike black belied just a bit by her red turtlenecked dress with black belt.

"I think that's the best way. Thanks." He nodded to the waiter setting down wine glass and two cups of chowder.

"Theirs is pretty good but nothing on Maine chowder." Wayne noted.

"You know I've never been. And I was in Boston for a year, at Emerson. Just too busy…"

"Good school for a journalist…" nod. Wry smile. "I know I was a little out of line getting your number like that."

She grinned, dazzling smile… "I'm still floored by how fast you got it. You could barely have had time to Google me after you'd left."

"I didn't want to pass up the chance to really meet you." Wayne, simply.

"Now I'm passed flattered to embarrassed…" she noted, a bit sheepishly.

"Don't mean to…"

"Is your dance card that empty?" she eyed him.

"Of people I really want to know…And maybe, dance with? Afraid so." Wayne nodded.

"Now that's hard to believe on some levels, not so hard on others. It must be tough for you to meet people without a lot of nonsense." Careful stare.

"Not so easy for you, too, I imagine. You've become a pretty public figure on the news."

"Hope that's not more 'pretty' than 'public'…" she noted.

"From the stories I've seen, no. You're a solid journalist. And I have known a few good ones, including Alexander Knox of the Globe."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. And speaking of my job…" she smiled.

He gave mock groan…"Anything except Batman's address…Which I really don't have, anyway…And the stock my fellas want to buy tomorrow." Grin.

"Fair enough…Though I could use a good stock tip. Contrary to rumors, they don't really pay that well at local news." Smile. "So you do feel the Crime Commission's made a difference?"

"I hope so. How about you? I mean, as a citizen… I know it can seem like a gabfest with nothing getting done. It's been that way in past years, sometimes."

She gazed mock-reprovingly… "I can't be part of the story…"

"Everyone is…" he noted, smiling. "Just refer to yourself as an average, if somewhat better informed, citizen."

"Advice in journalism as well…Is there nothing Bruce Wayne can't do?"

"Mix a decent cocktail, get a cake to rise right…Believe me, I've had lessons…Play more than a few show tunes on the piano…" shrug. "Had lessons there too…"

"Pitiful. I play…And not too badly on Chopin." She noted. "Practice, practice…" she wagged a finger lightly.

"True enough…But Alfred…My former guardian and manager of my estate…Makes me still keep at it, with little result."

"Well, I did have my mother teaching me…Were you serious about Batman?" she turned serious so suddenly he was caught by surprise.

"Hmmn?"

"Sorry, it's been gnawing at me. Has he spoken to you about giving up his vigilante career?"

"We're hardly that close, Ms. Dane."

"Sorry…It is my job." She sighed.

"No, it's ok. I pressed myself on you. I appreciate you didn't tell me to soak my head." Pause, somewhat sheepish eyeing…

"Thanks again…" he noted to the waiter, currently setting down his burger and salad.

"You sure you don't want anything else?" he asked Ms. Dane.

"Well, one more cup of the chowder? It was pretty good." The waiter nodding and heading off again.

"I still say you should try Maine chowder."

"I will, sometime." She smiled. "I think you were going to ask me something…Why I came, maybe?"

"I'm sorta hoping…" he took a bite of the burger. "This is pretty good, you wanna try a little?"

"Maybe just a little. Thanks." She took a piece from his hand. "That is good. You were sorta…?" she smiled.

"Hoping it wasn't just about getting more comments…" he shrugged.

"It wasn't." she smiled, a bit nervously. "God, I hope that didn't come off as badly as it sounded to me." Wan smile, leaning back in chair.

"No." he smiled. "It did not."


	3. Chapter 3

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part III...

Present day Gotham…

Van Dyck's…

"Look, sure you couldn't…" Wayne offered his burger to Ms. Dane, who sighed, shrugged.

"Very much afraid I could but I won't, thanks. I don't need to look pregnant or just plain fat on my next report." Sheepish grin. "I'll be fine with the chowder, really."

"Ok…" smile. He took another bite…. "As to Batman, I can't speak for how he thinks, it was just a feeling. After all he's been doing this for at least fifteen years or more. I gotta think he's reached the point where he'd like to call it a day."

"Like Gary Cooper in 'High Noon'? And you and the good citizens eagerly pushing him out?" Danielle smiled.

"God, don't cast me as that mayor…" he gave mock-horrified look. "I don't want him shoved out but the day has to come when others, hopefully professionals, take over from him."

"Well, how long have you been doing what you're doing?" she eyed him.

He blinked, in mid-chew…

"…With trying to help this city?" she explained, a bit startled herself.

"Oh…A long time…"he recovered quickly, wry smile. "That little I do. But I do see a lot of changes over the years. And, thanks…"

"Hmmn…?"

"For not asking what you meant to ask…How long have I known Batman…?" smile.

"I figured you'd been asked that enough…" shrug. "And I am interested in what you've done."

"About thirteen years, if that helps. It's ok. But Jim Gordon's known him from the start."

"You think he knows who he really is?"

"Maybe…" wave of hand, perplexed look. "If so, he's not shared it with me."

"And naturally you wouldn't if you knew." she nodded.

"I dunno…I'm pretty desperate to impress you here. I might say that I knew, even if I couldn't give out the name." smile.

"Ok…" she grinned, putting up a hand. "I deserved that. But I really do want to know about your work on the Commission. In the end, that's what'll matter. Even Batman has to retire as you say or…Go…One day."

Wayne concealing slight wince…

"It's the collective work that goes on, like with getting the city built, fighting disease here…Cleaning the sidewalks up and establishing a water system." she went on, slightly strident tone by end. "Sorry…" she gave a slight hand wave. "My thesis in college was on the work of the Gotham Sanitation Commission. I believe in community effort and I get on the soapbox a bit."

"I think you're right. And I suspect Batman would agree. But even he may have an apprentice…I wonder sometimes if there's more than one…" he regarded her solemnly.

"A Bat Society?"

"I know when Joker first showed there were several copy cat Batmans." He pointed out.

"I remember he killed at least two of them…" Ms. Dane noted, her mood a bit quieter.

"Yeah…" Wayne nodded. "There's a cost, always. Maybe it would be better if he is the one and only.'

"Maybe…But a tragedy all the same, if he can never escape that…Until…" she grimaced.

"Jesus…" wan sigh from Wayne, shaking head. "Here I'm the one going on about the Batman and your trying to give me a chance to puff myself up."

"I doubt you need it." Smile. "But it's nice you don't instinctively. I've met a few who can't live without that, often without much justification." Steady gaze.

He blinked again…

"Well…So…Crime Commission…" he began…

She chuckled, eyes shining… "You're embarrassed…" Open-throated laugh…He staring…

"Sorry…" she put up a hand. "Honestly, it's just I'd've never thought you'd be embarrassed by a little praise. It was meant to be that, you know." Shrewd gaze. "A little, anyway…I do admire what I've heard."

"Only when it's real and not just flack." He gave nervous smile. "Then I start thinking they may find out how little I really have done…"

"Thanks again…" she grinned. He, nodding, then cocking head…

"So…How do you edit a news report?" he eyed her.

"Are you really interested?" she asked.

"I am. I like to know how things really work too. And I get involved with the news often enough that I ought to…"

"Finish your burger while I make a call…" she smiled. "But I will take just one more small piece…' He smiled and handed over a small broken-off piece which she took…Just lightly touching his hand.

"Hey, Woodman, are you still at it?" she asked her phone. "Well, I've a friend here who'd like to see how it's done."

…

Hamilton, same time, a quiet street in one the nicer….One of several recovering areas nowadays…Areas, but not unusually so…

A small car pulling into a driveway to a garage door which opened…Once inside, after a moment, Henry Tuthill, all of twenty-three now, emerged, carrying some groceries and a bouquet of flowers.

"Hey, Mama!" he called out.

"Henry, sweetheart." Anna Tuthill came from a side door. In her forties now, looking quite a picture of health in casual but quietly elegant blouse and slacks.

"Hey, how are you tonight?" he beamed.

"I'm fine, honey." She came to him. "I was out doing some photographs today in Rockland State Park, I think they're not half bad." Fond smile, touching his arm. "What, for me?" she beamed as he offered the flowers.

"I brought dinner with me as promised…" he noted, holding up bags.

"Henry, you shouldn't have…I have plenty in the fridge and you work late enough as it is." She shook head. "But thanks, lamby." She kissed his head.

"No need for you to be on the stove when you can be out taking pictures and doing your own work, Ma." He insisted.

"Well, let me take this…" she took his bags. "And you come in and wash up while I set up dinner."

"I want to see those pictures after dinner…" he noted as she headed in, he following.

"Hope you will…Just be honest." She called back.

"Mama, I was thinking…" he called. "With Jen Jensen off to Paris, maybe I'd take a couple of days off before Founders' Day? We could do something, take a drive or a day trip or two, maybe? Up to some place where you could get some work in, if you like? Maybe Pam could come along, too?

"That'd be lovely, honey." She'd come back to him after setting the bags down in a large kitchen. "But I don't know if Pam can get away. She's got a load of casework, she said when we talked on the phone yesterday. Involving the new Jensen patents, I think…"

"Well, I'll check with her. I have a little pull at Jensen now. Maybe I can get her some help with that load."

"Well, praise be to Tut…" she beamed…He quietly ignoring… "…If you can, dear." Anna beamed. "Come on now, get washed up."

"Mama…" he followed her…He followed her into the comfortable, spacious, if modest living room of the house…Nodding to a burly man in business suit he passed in the hallway.

"Teddy…"

"Sir." The said Teddy nodded in turn, pulling up cell. "All units check in, He is in the building, standard security sweep."

"All clear…Post two." A voice crackled on the phone as Henry passed on to the living room…Anna awaiting him there.

"Post three…All clear…" Another voice…

"What is it, honey?" Anna asked, smiling.

"Oh, nothing…I was just wondering if maybe you might have met someone today, while you were out." He asked, off-handedly.

"Someone…As in a feller?" she grinned. "You're trying to push Mama off on someone else, boy?"

"Well, you haven't been out with anyone in a while, since Arthur left."

"Arthur was very nice." She noted. "I'm sorry he found Hamilton a little confining…I think my membership in the Society bothered him. He found it a little…Too much, I guess." Smile. "Probably for the best…"

"Well, plenty of fish in the sea, Ma. You ought to be casting more."

"Yes, there are…Praise Tut. I'll surely meet someone suitable, thank you, darling." Beaming smile. "I rather wish you'd get out and about more, yourself and bring a nice loving girl home."

"Plenty of time, there, Ma." He smiled. "But one day…" shrug.

"I hope so. Now, let me get things together, and you go clean up. I don't want your lab things all over our table." Smile.

"I will, but I wasn't doing much in the lab today…And I'm always careful, Ma."

"I know. But let a mother fret a little." Smile

"Hows about asking Teddy to join us?" he suggested.

"You are a sly one, honey." She grinned. "Teddy? If you're free for dinner, come on in." she called down the hallway.

"Thanks, ma'am." Teddy's reply. "If it's all right, sir?"

"Please do, Ted." Henry called back.

"I'll just ask Susan to keep an eye on my post. Thanks."

"Teddy's a nice fellow…" Henry, archly to Anna.

"Enough…Wash." Anna, firmly. He heading off, pausing to let a tall, strikingly athletic young woman in business suit enter from the front door.

"Susan." He smiled to her.

"Sir." She nodded.

"Hope you like Indian, Teddy?" Anna was asking as Henry moved to enter the bathroom.

"Post one is secure, praise be to Tut." Susan told her cell. "All perimeter areas check as secure, maintain contact on regular basis."

…..

Greater Gotham News…Editing Lab…

"So…" James noted to a seated Bruce Wayne, the cameraman's initial cautious manner worn off fairly quickly by Wayne's obvious interest and his own confidence in his craft. "It's mostly done with computers these days but some of us, particularly in the small ponds, still like to do what we can by hand. More or less…"

"With three machines to help, if not your standard office computer…" Danielle pointed out, archly from where she stood peering into an editing viewer. "Camere…" she waved Wayne over… "See how I can pick 'em." She noted, indicating the viewer which he moved to, peering through the eyepiece she'd now stepped back from.

"It's us…" Wayne smiled.

Woody eyeing the assistant editor, and his girlfriend, Carrie Floss a woman about James' age, in her twenties, with somewhat wild green-streaked hair, in t-shirt and overalls…Editing lab casual, she'd noted to their surprise guest on his entrance, who rolled her eyes in turn.

We should be all quiver for the romantic moment when Harry/Bruce met Sally/Danielle, eh?

Still…She eyed Wayne, a fine-looking specimen in rather nice duds. Who seems to do the banter crap well and enjoys slumming with the nerds…

…Can't really blame you, kiddo, she eyed Danielle who was busy showing off her recently gained expertise…

Just hope he's nice as he seems…

"So we'll want to enhance Danielle..." James continued.

"Oh, Lord…" Danielle, mock-sigh. "I promise you, most of what you see on TV is me."

"He just adds that special extra…" Bruce grinned.

"I do…" Woody nodded.

"You swell my boobs and I'll knock you on your keyster…" Danielle warned. "Though no objections to a whiter smile and better legs."

"Please…That's for the weathergirls…On Channels 10 and 5, of course…" Woody smiled. "Ours of course are all-natural." Nod to Wayne who nodded.

"Who's buzzing?" Carrie looked round.

"Sorry, me…" Wayne, sheepishly.

"Your watch?" Woody eyed him.

"A gift from an idiot friend…He knows I shut my phone off sometimes. Just a sec, I'll take this in the hall." Wayne rose. "Be right back…" he told Danielle.

"If you want me to guide you outta this maze, you will." She nodded. He grinned, closing door with gentle tug.

"So…That's Bruce Wayne. Ooolala…" Carrie eyed Danielle who gave sheepish grin.

"Marry 'im before he gets a good look at ya…" Woody, quoting Moe Howard, with Stoogian accent.

"You're ok, it's your place you dare not let him see…" Carrie noted.

…

"Hey, Jim. Bruce." Wayne told his phone, peering out the nearest window. "I don't see a signal…"

Thank God.

"No, this is for you, Bruce." Commissioner Jim Gordon's voice on phone. "I need a favor from the man behind the mask this time."

"Ok…What's up? Someone complaining Batman scraped their car?"

"Just wondered if you could stop by to discuss a couple of old friends…If not tonight, tomorrow's fine."

"This is unusual. Flextime." Wayne told the phone.

"You've earned it." Gordon, archly. "Well?"

"Mine, yours…His?"

"All three, really." Gordon replied. "Carlo Tambino and his daughter and son-in-law for three and Frankie Vallenti for another."

"Old friends, all." Wayne nodded. "But isn't she a nun now and isn't her dad dead and dear husband in prison…I don't know as to good ole Frankie."

"Yes, actually, no, and no longer. And as for Frankie, the no longer applies as well. Admit you're a bit intrigued."

"Admitted. Though Alfred always suspected you'd squirrelled ole Carlo away somewhere in WP. 'Too many associates appearing on the arrest lists, Master Bruce.', he'd say. But can we make it tomorrow?"

"Tell Alfred, I'm going to hire him as police psychic. And tell me it's not cause you're baking or polishing a new antique?"

"Gee, no, Dad…See…" Wayne, affecting awkward teen.

"A girl? Son, that's wonderful. Hell, I'll take a boy at this rate." Gordon, chuckling. "See you tomorrow, nine, my place. Unless she's a sleepover, in which case nine-thirty."

"You're all heart, Gordon."

"That's for sure. Get back to her and don't frighten her off with hints about your 'dark side'. Barbara and I do not want to be caring for you in my old and her middle age."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll get her home by ten."

"Goddamn it you probably will…" sigh. "Good night, Bruce."

"Always leave 'em hanging. After readin' 'em their rights, Jim." He hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part IV...

Present day Gotham…

The parking lot of Greater Gotham News…

"I hope you enjoyed that…" Danielle eyed Bruce as they walked to her car. His car still back at Van Dyck's at her suggestion.

"I did, honest…Just hope I wasn't in the way." he put up a hand. "I've gotten to work a camera once and I've seen the makeup room at a couple of stations but never the actual editing and putting it all together. Thanks, it was fun."

"Hope so…" she nodded. "I'm a nerd at heart so I love getting into it, even if I also like the investigative side…And yeah, I also like having my mug in front of the camera, at times." Wan yet rather dazzling…Or is it just the moonglow, he reflected, rather happily…Smile.

"The investigative's fun. I've gotten to do a little at the Foundation and with some of the civic groups. Knox's even let me tag along once or twice on a story. And it is a nice mug." He noted.

"So's yours, all-in-all…" she grinned at him.

"Well. I see why you didn't want me to bring my car out here but I hope yours is ok…" he noted, looking round the somewhat desolate area with wince.

"It is 'Greater Gotham News', not down- or mid- town." Smile. "Honestly, so far, no trouble…But I just thought it would be pushing things to have yours here…My Kia's not exactly going to attract carjackers the way a Bentley would." Sheepish grin.

"Believe me I've had it jacked at places like Van Dyck's. Alfred always tells me not to take it anywhere, but what's insurance for?" he shrugged.

"It is a beaut, assuming it's still there…But there, my old girl's still safe and sound." She pointed to her car. They headed over as she clicked it unlocked.

"Any chance you'd care to try it…?" he asked, putting up hands. "Just round a bit…To finish off the evening. It really does live up to the rep as a sweet ride."

"Well…Can I drive?" sidelong look.

"Yes." Firm nod. "Just let me double check the insurance is paid up…" grin.

"Then, deal." Arch look… "Just round about a bit…Come on, then." She urged, pulling at him to lead him to her car and hurrying to her driver's side.

"Uh…This doesn't mean I wouldn't like you if you didn't have a Bentley." She noted as he strapped in beside her. Giving him warm, if slightly nervous, smile.

…

The Tuthill home in Hamilton…

Which despite the odd presence of a rather elaborate security team, even for one of the nation's premier geniuses in Neurobiotech, seemed a cozy and comfortably simple place for the research director of an internationally prominent biotechnology corporation.

But many in the business world, let alone the biotech field, had found it odd that Jennifer Jensen, heiress to her more infamous than famous father, Jackson Jensen Sr, had chosen to expand a token facility set in the small city by her father for tax purposes and move the firm's headquarters and major labs to what for most was a place they'd never heard of…Especially since the head office had formerly been in the center of Gotham, at the beating heart of the financial world, for decades, surrounded by all the leading hospitals and universities Gotham had to offer.

Though most had to admit, and had, her gamble had paid off. Jensen, once left behind on many levels as its previous owner and founder had insisted sticking to his own outmoded views on pharma and biotech…Indeed Jack Jensen Sr, sneered at the word "biotech"…Had caught up and surpassed every rival except a few in tiny nitch fields. Even the mighty Wayne Life Labs, biotech division of Wayne Enterprises, had been left behind.

Success due largely to the genius of the same twenty-three year old Henry Tuthill now sitting down with his mom and the chief of his bodyguard to dinner. So that some might have felt a few of the security precautions in effect at his home were justified, if likely overkill. But nearly all would have found the full extent of precautions a bit odd, even a little disturbing. Though in fact only those who could be trusted with such knowledge were allowed it. To any expected visitor or casual guest, the Tuthill home would have seemed simply a quiet, comfortable home in a gated but modest community in an improving section of a city that had been taking a pleasantly surprising turn for the better over the last seven or so years…

Maybe the community gate a bit more sturdy looking and the guards more attentive and capable-looking than most such, but nothing truly startling… Perhaps odd to find security patrols occasionally and very politely sweeping this relatively modest-looking community…But Hamilton had had a high crime rate not so long ago, even if it had taken quite a plunge in the last seven years. And the Hamilton police force, once exceptional only for its corruption and brutality, was also a very efficient and polite force these days…Local security guards probably got it from them, where they weren't off-duty or retired cops anyway.

No, nothing particular to cause wonder or questions, except just perhaps a feeling, especially if you'd known Hamilton in earlier days… But, you'd likely get that feeling anywhere in the city now. Just a bit too quiet, orderly, clean…Until you got over it and decided to just be pleased at the turn things had taken. No doubt thanks in large measure to the new city government…A rather courageous mayor, Iris Redman, and her surprisingly efficient and progressive City Council and able, remarkably clean administration. So much so that some reformers in Gotham, noting the progress, had urged her to set her political horizons higher, though for the moment, they'd been repeatedly told, with thanks, she was content to do what she could for her community.

And of course a few civic organizations had played a role, including a fairly prominent self-help group, created in honoring memory of Hamilton's most prominent figure, tragically a victim of the crime that had plagued the city in his day. Though that group had been fading from the scene in the last few years, some, including the grandson of its namesake, having declared publicly it had seemed a bit too strident and aggressive, despite its positive works and effects in the community, to have or retain their support.

No, the house and its community would pass for normal, in general, on most days… As would the Tuthill family, despite its rather bleak past, including mother Anna's with her record and years of drug abuse…Sister Pam's, now distant, brushes with the law and drugs…And on a more positive yet, for Hamilton, far more unusual note, brother…Famed brother Henry's remarkable success…

But after all, he was the grandson of a brilliant and respected man, perhaps Hamilton's leading positive claim to fame after its distinguished name taken from a Founding Father of the American Republic. No one need be that surprised the grandson of such a leading man should make good. Particularly given the remarkable good fortune of his having become the protégé of one of the great city to the south, Gotham's leading citizens, the famous Bruce Wayne, billionaire entrepreneur and philanthropist…

….

Thirteen years ago…The night of Professor Tuthill's murder…Gotham General Hospital, ER…

"Will they let me go home now?" young Henry, lying on his gurney, eyed his savior and new hero, Bruce Wayne, who, pronounced well enough to leave his own cubicle had come with friend and manager/exguardian/second father/butler Alfred to check on the boy he'd encountered under such bizarre and tragic circumstance…

"I wanna see if Pam's ok…"

"I think she's at the police station, with your mom, Henry." Wayne noted, glance to Alfred, who nodded, having been occupied in checking on that situation while Wayne had made other calls.

"But we'll get over and see her, soon as we can spring you out, if you're ok." He smiled.

"I'm good, lets go…" Henry urged.

"Whoa, just a mo, kid." Bruce stopped him from rising off the table. "They've got an IV line stuck in you and they need to monitor you. I promise Pam and your mom will be ok. It's probably best Pam's with her to see she's ok, you know. We'll call again in a minute and see if you can speak with her direct, just lie back for now, ok?"

"O..K…" sigh… "Thanks, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce. Unless you prefer 'Mr. Tuthill'. And this is my friend, Alfred, who's been in touch with the police." He turned to Alfred.

"No, Henry's good, Bruce." Nod. "Hi." He addressed Alfred who smiled at him.

"Hello, young fellow." Alfred nodded to him. "Glad to see you're all right. Thank you for taking care of my boy, here, tonight." He smiled.

Henry nodding…Slight wan smile…

"My guardian…Watches me like a hawk…Or a mother hen. Be careful, he'll be doing it to you in a mo." Wayne grinned.

"Thanks…" Henry smiled faintly. "That would be nice."

"I'm so very sorry about your grandfather. He was a great historian and a very fine man. I admired him enormously…" Alfred, kindly.

"Everybody did…" Henry sighed. "Mr. Wayne? Bruce?" he turned to Wayne. "Will they put Pam and me in a home if Mama goes to jail with Jack?"

"Isn't there anyone who'd take you in, Henry? An aunt or an uncle…?" Bruce asked.

"No. Mama's cousin, maybe…But he's a freak, I wouldn't go there…" shake of head. "It's ok, a home, if they'll let Pam and me go together while Mama gets better. Unless she has to go to jail…" thoughtful look.

"I don't think it'll come to that, Henry. So far as Alfred and I have been able to make out, your mom won't be charged, just the man." Bruce hesitated. "There might be charges of some sort, but I think it's most likely they'll just want to get her into for treatment…I might be able to help her there."

"She needs to get help…" Henry nodded. "Grandpa tried to get her to go, but she'd just lie or run away or just plain not go. Even when they made her go, she came back and just went right back on stuff…" he sighed. "I wish they'd put her somewhere, until she got better…" wistful look. "But I don't think now she ever will…"

Bruce eyeing Alfred…

Nine years old…Ten? To go through all this…?

Like…

"We have some good programs, I'll try to get her into them, if it's ok with you and her." He noted to Henry.

"Ok…Yeah…" Henry nodded. "Thank you."

"Sure. She'll have to agree but…"

"Better than jail…" Henry sighed, nodding.

Alfred, wincing sigh…Much too young to have such knowledge. But I have seen this before…

"As for you…And Pam…" Bruce began…

Knock on side slat of the cubicle… "Can I come in?" hearty voice… Bruce eyeing Henry who nodded.

"Sure, come on in…" Henry called. Curtain drawn back to reveal a tall, late forties-early fifty-something, black woman in slightly worn business suit… A few wrinkles in said suit and somewhat frayed hair suggesting she'd been up and about far too long. Energetic and strong, but a certain weariness in her manner…

"Hi. Iris Redman, from City of Hamilton Social Services? Henry Tuthill?" she eyed the anxious-looking Henry on his gurney, who nodded but looked to Bruce with some pleading. She looked over to the risen Wayne…Alfred likewise standing beside him.

"And you must be Mr. Wayne…" she regarded Wayne.

"I am. Thanks for coming out." He offered a hand which she shook.

"I'd've been out in any case but your calls smoothed out a few things." She noted.

"I hope that's good."

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no." she turned to Henry watching them. A warm smile on her face…

"So, you're ok?" she eyed him.

"Fine. Mr. Wayne got me in here. They said I'm ok." Henry pushed glasses up. "Is my sister ok?"

"I believe so, sweetheart…" she sighed. "But I only know what I heard from the police. She's with your mother."

"Are you going to take me?" he asked, calmly. "Will Pam come too?"

"Well, Henry…That's what has to be decided." She noted. "I've been told you don't have any other relatives who could help here."

"No…" he shook head.

"Could we talk, a moment?" Wayne asked.

"I intend to…Just let me ask Henry here a few questions." She put up a hand. "Henry? Has your mother been the way she is for a while? I mean since she came home from rehab?"

"Yeah…" he nodded. "But Jack keeps giving her stuff."

"So I've heard, from your neighbors and your sister…" she sighed. "I have to tell you, Henry, the police will be needing to speak to you. Is there anything you want to tell them that you can tell me? About tonight? Jack? Anything?" gentle tone.

"I didn't see him hurt Grandpa." Henry shook head. "He just came and then Grandpa came down the stairs and died."

"I see." She nodded, glancing to Wayne.

"Please…I just want to stay with Pam." The boy pleaded. "Mr. Wayne said he'd help…"

"I will, Henry." Bruce nodded. "Don't worry."

"Thank you." Sigh.

"I want you and Pam together too, Henry. I'm trying to see that happens." Ms. Redman nodded. "All right, can you give Mr. Wayne and me a minute outside?"

"I'll still be here, Henry." Alfred, firmly. "And Bruce will be right back, we'll get this done."

"Ok…" Henry nodded. "Thank you. Ms. Redman? If you say I can stay with Mr. Wayne tonight, can Pam come too? He said he has a lot of rooms."

"We'll see, honey. Hang in there." She smiled, eyeing Wayne who followed her into the hallway.

"Quite a manipulator of hearts that one…" she noted, with weary smile. "So, Bruce Wayne?" she eyed him. "This is a first to have six calls at home and on my way in, all concerned that one little boy from Hamilton gets help."

"I wanted to be sure I had the right people…" Wayne noted.

"The mayor, the City Council chair, the State Social Services head, among others, I'd say you did." She eyed him. "But I would have been out here all the same without any prodding…Still, it can't hurt to have them all so anxious to please the great man."

"I'd hope some did it for the sake of the boy." Wayne sighed.

"Lets hope so…So what are you asking for here, Mr. Wayne?" she regards him, leaning against wall. "A toy to play with for a night? Two if we give you the sister as well…Which, sorry, she's going nowhere but a detox room tonight."

"You can't say that to Henry…" he pleaded.

"Of course not…" she frowned. "But I need to know what you're about here…? Are you honestly interested in helping these children?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Whatever it takes…"

"It could take a lot…This is completely out of the regulations, you know. And even though several of those people who called me, including dear ole Mayor Goodkin, my local boss, hinted I could wink at the regs, I never wink Mr. Wayne. Unless for the child's sake I have to, knowing what it could mean."

"I'm prepared to do whatever you require. If I can't take the kids in tonight, I'd still like to help. I'm ready to abide by whatever you say." He eyed her firmly.

"I don't want to put that boy alone in a strange house that barely meets foster requirements or more likely a juvenile detention cell…Look, Wayne…Can I call you Wayne?"

"Bruce."

"Lets keep it a bit more formal…" she sighed. "I know you have a good rep in Gotham as a community booster and I made six calls of my own on the way here, nearly all of whom told me Bruce Wayne is the finest guy on the planet…Not to mention a couple of the ones who called me, including your Commissioner Gordon, thought they should put in the good word. One fellow did remind me you once burned your house down…" she eyed him.

"Not exactly…I can give you the particulars…" he noted…She putting up a hand.

"The thing is, I could wink at this, for the boy's sake and hopefully, when she dries out, the girl's. There are enough people in the right places to do it but I won't just hand these kids over…" she paused.

"…to some rich white guy who might be planning God knows what for them." He finished, firm stare.

"There's my prob, Wayne…In the nutshell."

"If regs won't let you…But you can't put the kid in juvenile…" he sighed. "There must be something else…"

"Look, Wayne…I'm director of Hamilton City Social Services and I know that's only because the place is such a hell hole that no nice white college girl or guy with a sociology degree wants to work there, let alone meet the regs for living there. But I care about my kids…So much so that to keep my job from going to people who would turn my department into a child trafficking ring, I've let dear ole Goodkin spread it round that I'm his girl and even feel me up a little at a council function or two."

He stared.

"I'm saying that not to be crude…After all, Otis, though a corrupt slime, is gay and only wanted a cover to stay in his closet…But to make you understand what I'm willing to do for kids like this."

"It's that bad…" he stared…

"You ought to go slumming some time. Broadens the mind. Yes, it's that bad…All the scum you nice folks in Gotham and your Batman have been chasing out have been collecting in Hamilton…It's that bad. Understand that cause if I do this you and I may well go down to be fodder for any slimeball who wants to unseat Otis to have his or her share of the crumbs or Otis himself if he gets scared or some bright young political reformer who wants to get a headline cheap by poking around Hamilton. Namely 'pervert billionaire gets kids from Hamilton'. Got me? You'll get some bad press, the kids will endure hell, I'll be in prison."

"I won't let that happen. Whatever I have to do…" he eyed her.

"Nice to have a friend in high places. But with Jackson Jensen involved here…"

"Jensen? Jackson Jensen?" he blinked. "How is he involved?"

She eyed him. "You don't know? None of those friends of yours got back to you?"

"I've had the phone off while they looked me over and I talked with Henry…" he explained. "But what's Jensen got to do with anything?"

"It's his son…" she eyed him. "'Jack'? Jackson Jensen, Jr."

"What?!" he stared. "I didn't even know Jackson had a son…What was he doing…?"

"Half-black, Wayne, on Mom's side…You know Jackson's third wife, the TV actress? Seems young Jackson took a bad course direction in life or got bored being the son of a billionaire nearly as rich as you who wasn't inclined to acknowledge his own son publicly." She shook head. "His mom and Jensen divorced years ago and she died about 10 years ago. The kid decided, it seems, to go for the life of a pimp and drug dealer in his mom's home town…"

Wayne staring… "And he…Murdered…Archibald Tuthill?"

"Seems likely, much as the corrupt police of my fair city now seem inclined to be 'rethinking' the matter, despite a load of circumstantial evidence…But that's where the joke comes in. Jensen, Sr., though never exactly a champion of civil rights, seems to have a soft spot for his only son, despite keeping him out of sight for years." She eyed Wayne. "He's at the station, with family lawyer, arranging bail and demanding to have both kids turned over to his custody."

"The kids…" Bruce slowly shook head.

"Yes, the eyewitnesses…Seems the dear old fellow wants to see his might have been step-grandchildren properly taken care of. And since my source at the station is inclined to think that means an 'accident' under grandpa's tender care, you see why I might be willing to put my head in a noose here."

"Not many would, Ms. Redman." Firm look. "Thank God there's one like you. I think I can handle Jensen. If he's just trying to save his son…"

"Mrs, actually. I have four myself…And it's my husband who put his job on the line by calling me about this from his station, just so you know not every Hamilton cop is corrupt slime. But what we need to know here is, Bruce…" she smiled. "If we do this for these kids, are you willing to go the distance for them?"

"I am…Whatever that means, what we can work out."

"It's likely to be messy…Where Hamilton and its sodden government is involved, hands will be out and grabbing…" she sighed. "Jensen, as you say, might just want to get his son out of this, but that could involve some ugly maneuvering, given the evidence. And you, dear Brucey…" smile. "Are a prime target for every dirty thing the hacks can come up with…Even as everyone dealing with these kids down the line demands his or her little cut. And dear Mama is likely to come calling, demanding something or going to the press if it's not big enough…"

"I can deal with 'messy'…And with 'Mama', so long as we can get the kids safe. What about Pam, the sister?"

"That's going to be the hardest…She was high as a kite and resisted arrest. But, they got her into a detox and for now, that's likely the best place for her. I assume you can arrange something with some relatively classy but quiet rehab place…" she eyed him.

"I'm already working on it."

"Ok then, Bruce. Lets save two kids out of the thousands…" she noted grimly.

…..


	5. Chapter 5

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part V...

Present day Gotham…

Wayne and Ms. Dane in his Bentley, she driving, just a bit nervous, though calming rapidly. The car making a cautious turn and halting at traffic light.

"Wow…" she gasped. "This is one sweet ride…You sure you don't want to trade and take it for a bit? Course I'm hopin' you won't." coy grin.

"I'm good, thanks. And you're doing great. Best of all…" he grinned. "If there should be a scandal…? I usually offer the car."

She eyed him a moment…

"Ok, no…I'm lying, I never offer the car." he nodded, she giggling suddenly, then laughing.

"Damn, you're good…But I shoulda held out a bit…Bet you woulda…" she noted.

"That would've been a wise investment strategy." He smiled. "And I got the experts to confirm that."

"Ok…Here's the lot again, lets pull in, I'm a little more nervous about driving this thing than I let on."

"Really? Now I am scared." He gave mock look of horror.

She grinned, turning into the lot, then pulling to a stop in a parking spot, Wayne smilingly shaking head to an eager valet…No, thanks, all set…As she cut the engine.

"That was…Phenomenal. Thanks." She eyed him.

"So was the editing session…Thank you." He nodded.

"Well…I hafta get up early so…"

"So do I, board…And I mean bored in the full sense…Meeting tomorrow. Plus an old friend needs to meet just before." He sighed. "But…" he glanced at her… "You still didn't finish the interview…"

"I got most of what I needed." She noted. "Though…I would like a few more details. The Crime Commission's work is very complex."

"Very. And I want to see you again, maybe as a real date, with interview, next time."

"Kinda thought this turned into a date somewhere…" she noted, staring out.

"Really? I was hoping you thought so…" he began, she turning to him. Hmmn? He eyed her.

Tears…?

"Danielle…? Did I…?"

"I like you, Bruce…But I need to be sure…Am I really someone you could be serious about? Be honest." She asked. "Don't get me wrong…I think you are but…I'm not exactly in your tax bracket or social register."

"I don't even know exactly what a 'social register' is." He shrugged. "As for the tax bracket…Please don't throw me to those girls…Why do you think I'm not married to one of them? My great-great grandfather did make his own way, you know…If that helps."

"And the 600lb gorilla in the car…" she eyed him, with smile.

"You mean that you're black?" Bruce eyed her.

"I was going to say that I have a permanent sun tan to spare your feelings but…I admire the forthrightness." She put up a hand. "I know you fostered a couple of black kids a few years back…But you know you're not photographed with a wide range of various colors in the society section."

"Henry and Pam, great kids." He smiled. "Do they even still have a society section?…I guess the Times still does…I know a few years ago Alex Knox got stuck one season working for it, after he pissed off some political big wig." he noted.

"And no, I haven't dated many black women." He put up hands.

"Really…So you did…?" she eyed him.

"College, then a girl who worked at Wayne Enterprises but Mary decided I was too bookish and nerdy and Grace didn't like all the publicity, especially when they started suggesting she might be a golddigger, plus then she met someone else." He shrugged.

"She met someone else? And passed on her billionaire boss?"

"A very nice guy who runs a renovation company…I get cards now and then…" shrug. "Guess the Wayne name can intimidate, though I think it was just a matter of her finding the real guy. Danielle, if you can try and put up with the bullcrap around me, a bit…I'd like to see where things go."

"And I'd like another drive in this car." She grinned. "Though not tonight…I am getting pooped. Ok, a real date…"

"Great. Alfred will be thrilled. He's always trying to get me fixed up."

"He sounds swell…" she smiled.

"Maybe…If you'd like…Our date could be dinner at my place?"

"At Wayne Manor? Really? Is it as stately as everyone says…?" grin.

"A bit more modern since I had to have it rebuilt…" hs shrugged. "I suppose you heard about that as well…"

"Everything from the billionaire drunk to the guy who helped Batman lure a supervillain and sacrified his house…" she nodded.

"I'd never heard that one…" he gave pleased smile. "Nice to know the rumor mills sometimes are kind."

"I'd go with that one, from what I've seen." She noted, quiet smile at him. "Weel…Maybe the date after, if there is one? Not wanting to jinx things…" she put up a hand. "Just it might be too soon to meet your 'sorta dad' just yet."

"If you like…Hmmn…So I'll hafta wait to really show off, huh?" sigh.

"The Bentley's quite enough…" she noted. "You can bring that any time. Hows about just a dinner out somewhere not too big? We've leave the Bentley and take my Kia, so I can show off to my neighbors."

"Done…You pick the place…Long as it's not all sushi or all vegan…" he noted.

"Now there's a juicy tidbit…Bruce Wayne, anit-sushi/vegan." Grin.

"Not anti-, willing to try…Just like to have safe fallbacks…"

"Ok…Well…"

"Thursday?"

"Hmmn…I'm in the state capitol Thursday to do some q and a spots with the legislature and probably dead beat when I get home, probably late." She shook head.

"I'd say Friday but that's Hamilton Founders' Day and I'll be there all through Saturday night. Pam and Henry are from there and always invite me."

"I'm going myself. I'm covering their crime work as part of my story…"

"Maybe we could go together…" he suggested. "Are you driving with your crew?"

"I didn't plan to, I'll need my car to get round. I'll be workin' most of the day…"

"I have to stand on podiums and make a speech and oversee a parade…But I'll be free in the evening, though I do have dinner with the kids. But Alfred's bringing a car so I could ride back with him if you have to leave before I do." He eyed her. "I gave you a ride in my car tonight, you owe me one. I'll pick up breakfast."

She chuckled, sparkling eyed smile. "Ok…Deal."

"Great…" he beamed.

"So you do see them still? Your foster kids…" she asked

"As much as I can…They're grown now. Henry's a great success at Jensen Biotech, a brilliant kid. And Pam's become a fine lawyer…But I have them over much as I can and we get together whenever possible. I try to make a point of never missing the Founders' Day thing. It's become a big deal there, thanks in part to Jensen, prodded some by their star, Henry. And Wayne Enterprises tries to do its bit too."

"Bruce Wayne, sorta father…I'd like to see that." She smiled.

"Well…Even if you don't wanna see my 'sorta dad' and house just yet…" he noted. "You could see Alfred and them in a less-private setting. And I know the kids and Alfred would let us slip off. They want me 'fixed up' too."

"Well then, Founders Day…" she nodded. "I'll pick you up at six, ok?"

"Long as I'm in the Square by ten, shaking hands, the kids are happy." He agreed. "I'll call Thursday night to confirm. You know I have your number." He paused.

She eyed his look. "Ok, you can kiss me good-night now." Smile.

…


	6. Chapter 6

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part VI...

Present day Gotham…Wayne Manor gymnasium…The next morning…

"Two hundred pounds?!" Wayne eyed Alfred as he lay on bench, pressing the said weight. Alfred lowering the weight as Wayne smiled.

"Good grief, Alfred. You ought to be the one wearing the suit most of the time…"

"It's gratifying to hear you say so, Master Bruce." Alfred sat up on the bench, catching the towel Bruce tossed him. "I'm rather pleased, I must admit that I'm managing to keep in reasonably good shape at my age."

"I should be so lucky at my age…" Wayne sighed.

"Master Bruce…" wry smile. "It's not right of you to flatter an old man's vanity so…" wiping self with towel.

"I only wish I was…" renewed sigh, then shrewd look. "So are you planning to wait till we sit down to breakfast or are you going to ask me now?"

"I think we may as well wait…Clearly the evening went well, by that rather smugly Cheshire cat grin." Alfred noted.

….

Seated in a breakfast nook of the great manor kitchen, Bruce offered coffee and passed toast as Alfred ate cereal and regarded his copy of the Gotham Times…

"So you're meeting with Commissioner Gordon at nine?"

"I ought to wait till nine-thirty to jerk him around. He told me to if the lady slept over…"

"Hardly flattering to Ms. Dane or her reputation…" mildly reproving tone.

"I won't, just kidding…Jim wouldn't believe it anyway."

"Is it significant…?" Alfred, brief glance…

"Jim says he just want to discuss a couple of old putaways and their…" 

"Master Bruce…" Alfred, laying down paper, carefully…

"Ok, yeah…" Bruce smiled. "She was terrific, Alfred. Really wonderful…"

"And…?"

"And I told her so…And…I got a second date. First, really…Officially a date…"

"That's very fine. Well done, Master Bruce…" warm smile. "And when is the happy occasion, not meaning to suggest doubt…" sly smile.

"You're devious, Alfred…I'd hate to have you as one of my foes…" grin. "Friday…She's got to go to Founders' Day in Hamilton so we're driving together and when she has a little time we'll try to stroll a little…"

"Really? Wonderful…But I hope your presence won't create problems for her if she must be working during the day."

"Well, I'm busy too, ya know…" Bruce mock-frowned.

"Terribly so, I'm sure." Smile.

"Yeah…Parade marshalling and pressing the flesh is hard work, you know…" smile. "But you could be of help there and later…Alfred…"

"I would hazard a guess you'd like me to stand in at some things….?"

"If you could…And explain it to Pam and Henry? Tell em I might need a little time for some errands, since you'll be seeing them first. And maybe, as for dinner…"

"I doubt I would have to say more than 'Master Bruce has a girl, my dears'…They'll be ecstatic." Smile. "Truly, I'm sure they'll understand. Especially after they've met the young lady."

"I won't miss anything important, tell them."

"Of course…"

Bruce paused, sidelong glance… "So, you like her?"

"Miss Dane seems a fine young lady…I admire her broadcasts, very well researched and to the point. And she is quite lovely."

"Thanks…She'll be glad to hear she made the cut…" grin.

"It is a high standard I and the children set." Alfred nodded. "As for your meeting this morning…?"

"I don't think it's Batman-related, Jim just seems to want information…From me."

"If it concerns Gotham's worst, Batman is related." Alfred sighed.

"Well…I haven't yet hung up my cowl…" Bruce noted. He looked about the room…

"It would be nice to have more people around…No offense, Alfred." Quick glance. "I just kinda miss having the kids. Even if Pam could be a handful at times…I know she put you through some hell."

"As do I, Master Bruce. And she was, but thankfully Miss Pamela seems to have found herself. And I always understood she was struggling terrible burdens."

"She's the one who we ought to be fixin' up. Henry says she almost never dates and works all the time. He can't get her to take a break." Bruce noted. "Say, maybe we could have them here this Sunday at least. Do a barbeque?"

"A bar-B-que?…Master Bruce?"

"Come on, you were great at them…Well, they loved Brit barbeque. Lets see if they'll go for it."

"That would be pleasant. And of course you'd invite Ms. Dane…?" shrewd look. "A fine chance to see you in the family circle as paterfamilias…"

"Yeah…" Bruce nodded. "She ought to see if she can bear me as well as you guys as raging bore. You up to it, Alfred? I could hire a caterer."

"And deprive me of a chance to repeat my triumphs in British bar-B-que? I should say not, Master Bruce." Arch look. "Not to mention a chance to sell my boy to his new girl…

"What would I do without you, Alfred?" Bruce grinned.

…..

Eleven years previous…

High level containment area, Special Projects Division, Wayne Enterprises…

A metal cage or cell in the center of the dark warehouse chamber of the containment area…

In which a figure in loud-colored suit and pants, with green hair that dully shone in the dark lay, slowly coming to a sitting posture.

"Hey?!"

The figure stood.

"Hey? Old man?" Joker looked around the cell. "Hey?! You know…I'm an escaped mental patient, it's not nice to leave me in the dark. It could compromise my treatment…With real consequences. Lets not be irresponsible here."

A light snapped on to reveal Alfred standing, watching… Joker rose.

"Not bad, not bad at all, old guy. How'd you manage this? Batman set this up?"

"No. You underestimated two older men, son." Alfred, calmly shaking head. "Always a mistake when one is a genius and the other, British...With a degree of military experience. I hope the tasering didn't harm you unduly. It was necessary."

"Twisted…The joke's on me for once, huh?" Joker sneered, touching the bars. "First class, top notch, I see… Is this Wayne Enterprises property? I am at Wayne Enterprises, right? Well…It doesn't matter…" grin. "I know who Batman is…And I know who he loves…That's what matters."

"Do you?" Alfred, phlegmatically.

""When they come for me, I'll be telling the world. I might not even kill you, so you can watch the fun." Smile, cock of head. "Your little boy is in deep dodo…And his dear kiddies…You know I love kids?"

"Indeed." Alfred shrugged. "I see why you attempted to seize me after you escaped the asylum. So, now you've decided it's my friend Mr. Wayne?"

"I'm in here…" Joker touched the bars. "You'd have to be pretty good to have got me in here. That suggests you're not the average butler."

"No, but you're obviously not familiar with the average British butler." Alfred noted. "But if you'd checked you'd've found my background is a bit unusual."

"Making you just the man Batman would have as that mentor type…" grin, stretching to relax a bit. "Do you know how I got these scars?" He pointed to the scars about his lips which widened his small mouth to an eerie, white outlined, red-lipsticked, permannet leer.

"I'd say I can guess but am not the slightest bit interested." Alfred, dryly.

"That's cold. And not the way to deal with a mental patient, you know…Well…Anyway...I once had kids myself…Well, one day…"

"It's of no interest to me, son." Alfred turned…

"So he's coming soon, huh?"

"No." Alfred had turned back. "He's not…"

"Don't try to joke with me, old man…" Joker frowned. "You're too smart to leave me to the cops…He's got to be coming."

"No, son. He isn't." Alfred, calmly.

"The police? Ha, ha, ha…" Joker grinned. "Thanks…This should be fun. But I guess I'll have to let a couple live, to spread the news about your boy. And the little ones…I hear tell the girl's been in some trouble. Maybe she could benefit from my experience. I could counsel her, maybe?"

"Goodbye, son." Alfred eyed him coolly.

"True…" Joker shook a bit… Hmmn… "I did have a father…We all do, you know…And you know how I got these…" he wiped forehead, makeup streaking… "Oh, that's just…Batman coming and I'm a mess. Could I trouble you for some white lead make up, a little powder…I want to look my best."

Alfred, regarding him.

"Nasty." Shake of head… "Well as to unmasking your boy… See, I'm a smart fellow and I had some rest time on my hands when not focusing on my treatment…" grin. "So I asked myself…If it wasn't Dent, who else in this f-ing city could be dark enough in his soul, not yet…Yet…" forefinger up. "…A professional criminal…But still have anything like the cash he'd need to be the Batman. And you know what…? Old man?" Joker grinned. Hands trembling…He clutched at them.

"I'm embarrassed. I must be overtired from escaping the asylum and killing people on the way out…" Joker, frowning. "I want you to know I'm not afraid…Pray accept my apologies, I must have caught a cold."

"I'm sure you're not afraid. Though you should be." Alfred, calmly. "So…One name popped up in the recesses of your small brain…Bruce Wayne. How impressive." he noted, calm shrug. "A child could have come up with that, given Mr. Wayne's well-known history and wealth."

"You know, for an old guy who's been like a dad to that psycho Wayne, you're kinda nasty." Joker frowned. "I may decide to kill you sooner rather than later."

"No…Just British." Alfred replied. "By the way, young man…You're dead."

"When your heroic sorta son shows, huh? He'll kill me fer sure this time, righto?" Joker smiled. "No dumping me back in…"

Hmmn…He felt his head.

"Is it hot in here?"

"No, that's just a side effect from the poison." Alfred noted. "You'll be dead in about sixty seconds."

Joker, blinking…

"In my ring, when you scraped your hand on it, in the car, just before Dr. Fox tasered you…"

Joker, groaning now…Quivering with hands now shaking as Alfred watched him…

"It's quite painful, I'm afraid…But I needed to be sure as you seemed the sort to preimmunize yourself against most toxins."

"What? Jesus…Come on…Are you kiddin'?" annoyed look… "This is no way to handle a deranged…I…" he groaned. Argghh…

"No! I can't be croaked by you…The old flunkey fart?!" Joker gasped out, falling… "Is this some…Kind…Of…Sick…Joke?" he stared, wild-eyed from the floor, writhing…

"I'm afraid not, young man." Alfred sighed. "He'd be inclined to return you to your asylum, which decision, for his own soul's sake I would have to support, and you've pestered my boy and those he cares for enough, as well as so many innocents…Including two very precious to us both now whom I will not allow you to threaten." he noted. "Shortly after we'd learnt of your escape, I captured your man trying to maintain surveillance on me…A poor choice, I must say…But I suppose you were short of funds and time…Having gathered you'd made your guess and meant to hold me to pressure Master Bruce, my friend, my only son, into more of your psychotic games, Dr. Fox and I decided we had to take preemptive action with you."

"You son of a…Ohhh!" Joker groaned, falling to the ground. "I can't die like this, please…I'm a victim too…I'm insane, you know…" whimper. "My doctor says…I can't…Help…Myself!" feeble grin as he shook.

"No, not really." Alfred, dryly.

"Help me, sir…Oh…Everythin' getting dark…" Arrgh…Joker clutched stomach.

"No, that's a lie, but your stomach and a number of other organs are dissolving…The pain is quite real." Alfred noted.

"Fine…F-ing old…Fart! You…Go…With…Me!" Joker felt himself…

"Oh, a self-destruct of some sort?" Alfred looked over, curious. "We'd checked but thought you might have it well concealed…Is it imbedded in your flesh, perhaps? That was my friend's conclusion…"

"F-ing…Old…"

"Clever enough but I'm afraid though I had Dr. Fox see that this cell was contained within his new transparent and sound transmitting superdense plastic as a precaution." Alfred tapped the invisible outer wall of the cell. "I don't know if you've a bomb or something else upon you but this should contain it. If not…I'm an old man and not really that concerned for living much longer, though my friend Dr. Fox would be disappointed to see his new wonder plastic fail."

"Arrrrrrhhhhh!" Joker screamed as he flamed up and exploded, his remains splattering on now visible portions of the cell walls. Alfred observing…

"If any portion of your soul can appreciate it, rest in what peace you can, boy." He sighed, pulling phone.

"Hello, Lucius. Yes, Pennyworth here." Alfred spoke to cell phone. "Yes. You can have your people clean the mess, but be sure they use protective equipment, the poison was extremely toxic and I'm not sure what the boy used on himself. No, he chose to immolate himself… Yes, I agree…Best thing all round so long as we can prove it was Joker and we should be able to confirm his DNA against police and cave samples. Yes, I'll await your people. No, no chance of that…Master Bruce is out with the children. Thank you for your performance and assist, old friend. No, he remained in his bizarre state to the last, no information about himself. Sooner or later we'll uncover the details, though I doubt they matter much. Simply one of the lost who channeled his insanity a bit more creatively than some. Good night, Lucius." He closed phone and turning, walked out, clicking light as he passed the switch.


	7. Chapter 7

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part VII...

Present day Gotham…Office of the Commissioner of Police…

"Well?" James Gordon, comfortably seated in his heavy black leather chair, hearty and hale, as befitting a civil administrator having a rather good year…Mayor, City Council, and general populace all reasonably satisfied with the drop in violent and non-violent crime. Though a few, as always, either dissatisfied with the extent of the city's recovery or annoyed by the costs involved…Some of these increasingly pointing a finger to the success of Gotham's little brother to the north, Hamilton, in drastically reducing, some would even claim, eliminating, the crime which had devastated it, at considerably lower cost, by most accounts, over the last decade. A few among them noting the said Hamilton had had no need of a mysterious, if of later years, semi-deputized, vigilante whose behavior and methods were at times, and increasingly, disturbing, especially to those who placed constitutional rights above all.

"Did we have a fine time last night?" Gordon grinned at the seated Bruce Wayne, Wayne a bit uncomfortable in suit required for his upcoming board meeting, mock-frowning…

"Now 'Dad'…You know a gent never tells…"

"Well, just tell me you didn't get picked by another psycho like Selina Kyle…" Gordon eyed him. "Barbara's very concerned."

"She has no need to be, Danielle's a nice girl. No supervillain second career…"

"Tell me you didn't ask her that…" Gordon, mock-horror.

"Certainly not. Alfred ran a Google search, like he always does."

Gordon chuckling…Then, nodding. "Well, just so long as she can put up with 'Bruce Wayne: the national figure'."

"She's actually better known than I am…" Bruce grinned. "Danielle Dane from Greater Gotham News…"

"Really?" Gordon leaned back. "Nice girl, indeed. And very sharp, she gave me quite an interviewing a few weeks ago."

"She's been researching a story comparing how Gotham and Hamilton are getting crime down. It should be pretty good, actually."

"Just so long as it praises me to the skies and suggests Batman's efforts are all well and good, but a bit too much for a civilized era…" Gordon smiled. "Barbara says my head won't go through the door these days but I'm rather enjoying not being covered in buckets of manure continuously. Thanks."

"Anything Wayne Enterprises can do to make life better in Gotham…Billionaires prefer a high-quality of life city, you know."

"Exactly what I suspected you were in this for…" Gordon nodded. "So…Given I didn't call you in just to discuss your love life…"

"I'm ready to discuss yours anytime…" smile.

"Non-existent. I live for my work." Gordon, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "And 100 year old Scotch." He poured a bit into a glass, pushing to Wayne's side of the desk and poured himself one.

"At nine-fifteen in the morning, it had better be…" Bruce noted, taking glass.

"Some billionaire who gave it to me for Christmas years ago told me it was…But he was probably foisting off cheap hooch." Gordon lifting his glass. "L'chaim…"

"L'chaim…" Bruce raised glass, taking sip.

"So things are good and Commissioner Gordon takes to sipping old scotch early in the am out of sheer boredom…Surely a scenario we've longed for all these weary years." Gordon leaned back, fingering glass. Bruce regarding him…

"What's up, Jim? Carlo Tambino is in your hands, right? Are he or someone in his old gang a problem again? I gathered the rest of the surviving family's either pushing daisies or praying for the others."

"Sister Katherina…" Gordon shook head. "Katherine Tambino, once our 'most likely to kill her way to her dad's seat' candidate…Who'd've thought?…And if she's faking it, I've gotta say she deserves an Oscar." He indicated an open magazine on his desk.

"Infamous daughter and wife of mobsters, now heroic nun…" Wayne blinked at the headline on the story's first page.

"Not bad for a tag line…She's saving children in the Sudan?" Bruce looked up at Gordon.

"But always available if I ever need her to testify against those who did harm in her father's and her ex- ("Read, late."…Hard stare…) husband's name…What she told me when she left, after Carlo's trial. Right after he screamed in court he'd have her guts on toast for testifying against him."

"I remember. I remember figuring she was either insane or figured it was the one thing that could save her from the wrath of a hundred angry mobsters, including her dad and husband, taking holy orders. Until of course things had calmed, the syndicate was writhing without a head, and she'd make her bid to take over…"

"I was inclined that way myself, however sincere she seemed…"

"I guess the joke was on us…" Bruce shrugged. "Well, more power not of this world to her if she's really changed."

"More to the point, God spare those Sudanese kids…" Gordon noted. "But if real, you've got to admit…Bizarre."

"But not completely unheard of…Her father was a monster, her husband little better, her life for all the trimmings must have been endless hell. The Church has found fertile ground in such situations." Wayne shrugged. "And dear old Maxy Dikas is no more?"

"Therein the bizarre deepens…" Gordon sighed. "You're right, we've had ole Carlo on ice for six years, since his lovely daughter and a few suddenly contrite politicians and even a couple of his lieutenants turned state's and helped us bring down what was left of his syndicate. You may recall he'd made the strategic decision to move the remnants of his battered forces to Hamilton after some lunatic vigilante had nearly wiped out his empire here in dear Gotham." Grin.

"With the help of some lunatic cop…" Bruce noted, grinning.

"Senile ole fool, seeking a little glory, I hear…" Gordon nodded. "Well, Carlo hadn't done too badly in his tactical retreat…Hamilton was pretty fertile ground if small relative to our town…And of course preety well staked out by smaller players who'd had the same brilliant notion after Batman's repeated visitations upon them here."

"Yeah…I think Henry has never really forgiven Batman for letting that happen…" Bruce sighed.

"Jesus." Gordon blinked. "Tell me you haven't…"

"No, of course not. Neither of the kids…" Bruce shook head. "But…"

"So that's why a large Bat's been noted flying about in the suburbs outside Gotham the last eight or nine years…I thought so." Jim eyed him. "You've been trying to 'atone' for not solving all the world's problems yourself, eh?"

"I should have done more there, sooner. I knew some of the mobs were in or running to Hamilton."

"And LA…Chicago…Metropolis…DC…Are you planning visits everywhere? I can suggest some nice villages."

"Jim…I just felt…And it may have helped…" Bruce noted, sheepishly.

"Henry and his foster dad have to understand Batman can't solve all the world's problems…"

"He doesn't think that way. I don't either…But, my driving them out of Gotham did play a role in making things worse there."

"You remember, a very long time ago, I said something along those lines to you?" Gordon, calmly.

"'You may treat the symptoms, Bruce…The disease goes on until till we find a real cure.'" Bruce nodded. "And I've tried applying that cure as well…"

"I know…" Gordon nodded, kindly. "And I'll hazard a guess that's what will endure, long after Batman the vigilante's forgotten. What Bruce Wayne did to save Gotham and Hamilton and encouraged others to do. That's your real legacy."

"I hope so. I want it to be." Wry smile… "Well?...Carlo moved to Hamilton, things went swimmingly once he kicked a few asses of the small fry…Then…"

"Then…It all went tumbling down…In the space of two years…In a little city once rated the most corrupt and crime-ridden in America by several learned types. And while Batman did kick an ass or two in support, it wasn't his doing…"

"No…It was great to see…" Bruce smiled. "Something I'd hoped to see for years. A city reclaiming itself without my help. People rising up, taking their lives back…I see it now in Gotham, too, at last."

"Beautiful picture and continues to this very day…You're heading over for Founders' Day on Friday, as always, right?"

"I never miss it unless someone has me strapped to a post awaiting a bomb's detonation…" Bruce, wryly.

"Which happens too often with you…Though I pity the supervillain tryin' it when Founders' Day looms. Batman is nothing compared to Dad Wayne." Gordon smiled.

"Ok, so this involves Tambino's people in Hamilton…Can we?" Bruce waved. "If there's trouble brewing there again…?"

"See? Dad Wayne trumps the Bat every time." Gordon nodded. "Do you know that Dikas killed himself?"

"Max Dikas? I hadn't heard before you hinted at it but I'd seriously doubt the 'himself'." Bruce noted. "What, by cutting himself into several pieces and mailing the pieces to separate cities? Carlo must have finally decided his dear son-in-law was in with Kate and evened the score?"

"No. I was there. The other night, after he gave some friends of mine in the federal government the last bit of evidence they needed to put a certain Gotham Senator away for life."

"You finally nailed Senator Reddit? Jim, that's tremendous…" Bruce sat up. "What did Dikas have on him?"

"It'll be in the papers…Involves a party girl who got too greedy, then dead, and several defense contractors who were very liberal in their gifts to our elected representatives but not so to their employees and liked to employ Dikas' goons to instruct said employees in proper behavior, sadly getting too 'into' their job with the written approval of our noble Senator."

"And Dikas suddenly gave you that info? He was on death row, did he expect a pardon?"

"He not only didn't request a deal, he was quite eloquent as to wanting to atone for his crimes. He killed himself right in front of us after finishing his testimony. Said to tell Carlo it was his sacrifice for Kate…A life for a life."

"Killed himself to save Kate from her father? Max Dikas?"

"That's what he claimed…I must say even Carlo was rather stunned."

"But even if this is true…He must've known you had Carlo…That he couldn't reach Katie…"

"Having Tambino under lock and key and being able to keep him from having people he wants killed, killed are two different things entirely, Bruce." Gordon calmly. "We do our best but he's there every day, his people are still about in and out of Gotham State Pen, and he finds the weak spots. It's not easy but he's learned patience in his declining years. Hopefully, he'll either die or we'll be able to get the feds to let us kill him soon. Though he is good at keeping back just enough to keep his life worth preserving for now."

"What about Kate Dikas? Is she in danger?"

"Now there's a forgiving man considering she'd once told Batman she'd have his balls mounted, of course she was only sweet sixteen at the time, but a true Tambino. Carlo claims he's satisfied…An old school type, he can appreciate a gesture of honor…But I've tried to see the Sister got protection. So far, so good…Though any terrorist or crazy soldier could kill her at any time, as the good Sister indeed pointed out to me when I spoke to her."

"Unbelievable…I would have thought Dikas would pay to have her killed."

"He did…Multiple times…" Gordon nodded. "But his contacts weren't as loyal as Carlo's and definitely not as skillful."

"Then why the sudden change…Contrition? Was he going to be executed, at last?"

"He had a decade of appeals at least before him and a good chance friends in high places would get him off, even, out, and Carlo's fine example in witness protection as a fallback if all else failed. We only had him on the one murder charge, after all, unlike dear old dad-in-law. No, he had no particular reason just now to find Jesus...Or, Tut…" Gordon eyed Wayne.

"Tut? That group in Hamilton, that Jack Jensen ran?…He had a tie to them?"

"He died with 'Oh, Tut…' on his lips…" Gordon frowned.

Bruce, shaking head…"They were big for a little while, with Jensen's money from his dad, something of a cult…But they faded out after Henry refused to support them in his grandfather's name, despite his mother joining. I've heard they're nothing but a self-help group now, since Jensen gave them up as well. Dikas had ties to them?"

"Seems he was a true believer, in his last days." Gordon noted "Never a hint of any interest in religion or philosophy from Max Dikas, not even something like taking an interest in Adolf Hitler or Mussolini which you might expect from a murderous gangster with histrionic pretentions. But, in his last few days, the man seems to have suddenly undergone a transformation…Calm and stoic, respectful to the guards and the warden, anxious to make amends…Counseling some of the wilder young bucks. He contacted the feds and me, not us him."

"Tut…Was there any sign he was a member of their group before? It wouldn't surprise me that he knew young Jensen." Bruce frowned. "Henry and I were always sure he'd something up his sleeve with the Tuts, trying to get into the local rackets with his own gang. But when he cut them loose…" shrug.

"None…In fact before he and Carlo collapsed in Hamilton, he'd had 'run-ins' with the Tut group. Roughed up several of them when they chased his dealers out of their neighborhood. Probably had two of the junior leaders calling for tougher actions on crime killed, from what we know. He or Carlo, anyway…Bizarre enough?"

"Somewhat…When did you say this reformation occurred?"

"I can pinpoint it. It was right after he received a letter…His first in years…Guess who from?"

"Kate?"

"Sister Katherina…Yeah. Hoping he was well, trusting he would believe her in her wishes for his redemption. Appealing to him as a Catholic to try and redeem himself and apologizing for having to divorce him. Very sweet letter actually, he showed it to me after he called us in…Said she'd never lied to him about loving him during the marriage."

"And that drove him over the edge?"

"Looks like…He claimed it had changed his life." Gordon noted. "Who'd've imagined Max Dikas becoming a romantic on death row…?"

"Code, maybe? She and he had a plan?"

"Long time for Dikas to wait to employ such a scheme. And Sister Katherina would have to be the most devoted mob wife in history to have endured all that she has just to throw us off the scent."

"Wow."

"Wow." Gordon nodded.

"Still, stranger things…" Bruce noted.

"And they have happened…" Gordon sighed. "And so we get to Frankie Vallenti…"


	8. Chapter 8

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part VIII...

Four years previous…

Hamilton County Women's Jail…

Daneil lifted the pages of the document on the table before her, glancing over…Then eyed the two seated before her across said table in the small conference room to which Officer Brooks had "escorted" her before handcuffing one wrist to a ring under the heavy table. Officer Brooks, and the slight blonde woman now beside her, calmly regarding her.

"Well, Ms Freedmont?" the blond eyed her.

"You want me to sign this? And it's a 'research protocol'. And if I sign, maybe you'll see I get a chance like Lucretia here?" she nodded at Officer Brooks. "Parole, some kind of probation, what?"

"Not parole…A complete new start…" the blonde smiled. "Call it a pardon…"

"Uh-huh…And who signs off on this 'pardon'? The governor? The President?" narrow stare.

"Officially Daneil Freedmont joins a special rehabilitation program and is transferred to the women's prison at Hamilton…Unofficially she joins our program and if all goes well, starts a new life…In time, after the program is successfully completed." The blonde noted.

"Shit, you must be joking…I'm supposed to sign this and hope, if I'm a good girl, I'll get out? What is this? You CIA or something? This some kind of shit like on You Tube? That's not the Lucretia I knew." She indicated Officer Brooks.

"Hmmn…A little of her, a little of what she wanted to be…" Officer Brooks smiled. "Daneil, this is a chance for you to become what you wanted to…"

"Rich and taking nothin' off nobody. That's what I want, honey." Daneil replied.

"We think there's more to you than that…But, if that's the case, it's not hard to give you that." The blonde noted.

"Oh, yeah? C'mon…Shit, I just busted out of Gotham State. I'm gonna get out if I sign this? What are you pulling here?" she frowned, peering over the pages.

"Officer Brooks clearly managed to evade her sentence…" the blonde smiled at Lucretia who grinned.

"Then this is serious CIA shit and the answer's no." Daneil noted, tossing the pages to the blonde.

"I promise you we are not CIA or NSA or FBI. As I told you, I'm Jennifer Jensen of Jensen Biotechnica and we have no affiliation with the Federal government."

"Well this is crazy shit and I'm not buying…"

"You prefer to go back to Gotham State?" Ms. Jensen eyed her calmly.

"I got out once, I'll get out again."

"Be a bit more difficult, especially without our help." Ms. Jensen smiled.

"Your help?" Daneil stared. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Ms. Freedmont, you must have been aware your escape was, even with your cousin's help, rather too easy…As was your arrest here in Hamilton, to you proper credit." Ms. Jensen smiled.

"Angie set me up?" hard stare. "That bitch set me up?!" grim rage…

"No, we did. But your cousin was working with us and she alerted us that you were considering an escape. We'd planned to help you do so, in order to have this moment but you got a little ahead of us. Fortunately you needed outside help and fortunately your cousin is a Hamilton resident."

"She set me up…" Daneil, coldly furious. "Angie, that bitch, sold me out…For how much?"

"To help you, Daneil. This was your only chance and she cares about you. As we do…" Lucretia cut in. "You're a Hamilton girl…"

"The fuck you say…" cold stare, folding arms. "And to hell with your contract or protocol or whatever…Get me a fuckin' lawyer! Now!"

"This isn't a legal situation unless you want to make it one." Ms. Jensen noted. "If you'd hear us out…"

"Get me a lawyer or if this isn't an arrest, let me the fuck out." Daneil glared. "What did they do to you, Lucretia, lobotomize you?" she frowned at the officer who sighed.

"They gave me the chance of a lifetime, Daneil. Which I took, praise Tut."

"Praise Tut." Ms. Jensen nodded. As Officer Brooks rose and stepped towards the door of the room, heading for the door.

"What the fuck is that…Tut shit?" Daneil fumed to Ms Jensen.

"It's the key to your new life, Daneil…" Ms. Jensen smiled.

"I've said no…Fuck off. Put me in a cell and get me a lawyer or let me go." Grim stare. "Why do you even want me? What is this?"

"You're the next generation, Daneil…" Ms. Jensen beamed. "Give us a chance to show you what could be yours…What you could be."

"The next what?" Daneil shook head. "Ok, I told you now and that's it." Grim look, arms folded. "So do I get my lawyer or what?"

AHHHH…She gasped…Officer Brooks backing away from her back where she'd just surprised her from behind, now pulling the hand she'd placed on her neck back…Minus what she'd deposited on Daneil's neck.

"I'm afraid you're too good a subject and this project is too essential to take 'No' for an answer, Daneil. Can you hear me?" Ms. Jensen asked.

"Yes." Daneil, blankly. Staring…

"Sign the document, please. Where I indicated before…As soon as you're able." Ms. Jensen told her. Daneil staring at the pages Officer Brooks had just placed back before her on the table. Lifting pages and signing in several spots with the pen the officer had placed by the sheets.

"Thank you, Daneil. Lucretia will take you to Processing…Congratulations on completing stage one." Smile.

"Stage one confirmed completed, no adverse indications. Praise be to Tut." Daneil murmured, nodding at the last words. As Officer Brooks unlocked the handcuff and indicated she should rise, Daneil rising.

"This way, sweetheart." Lucretia urged her, leading her to and out the conference room door. Ms. Jensen watching after them. "This is a new beginning for you…Don't worry." The officer telling Daneil as they went out, Daneil listening blankly.

"Please note subject Freedmont has been secured and enrolled at stage one…No contraindications…" Ms. Jensen told a small pocket recorder she'd pulled from her coat pocket and placed on the table.

…

Commissioner Gordon's office, present day Gotham…

"You know that Frankie V took over, or tried to, after we nailed ole Carlo…In Carlo's name, of course…"

"Of course…" nod. "How could I forget…" Wayne eyed Gordon.

"Touching loyalty. But things were going downhill in Hamilton, there was Sister Kate's revelations, a new city government, the wholesale clean out of the police force before that..."

"I remember. And I remember the five-days war…When Dave Redman and fifty innocent people were killed by Valenti's and the other mobs trying to stop the Hamilton Six from testifying." Bruce sighed.

"And his wife became the crusading mayor six months later…" nod. "And the testimony by the ex-mayor, poor ole Otis and those six members of the old City Council who'd suddenly found Jesus…Or Tut. And risked their lives to defy the mobs and the cartels."

Bruce eyeing him. "I remember Jensen's group was big then…And that some of them were killed at the time."

"And all this on poor Frankie's watch…Carlo on one side, resentful and chaffing even if he'd actually agreed to Frankie's elevation…The rising good citizens of Hamilton on another. backed by earnest billionaire reformers from the large city to the south…" smile to Bruce's look… "…And the testimony of Sister Kate and other brave people, very surprising ones in some cases, finding voice even at their own expense in terms of jail time…And his rivals, in poor shape but still ready to waste blood and treasure fighting each other. And, to complete the square…" Gordon noted. "Some lunatic in a funny suit, choosing this time of all times to pay visits to our small brother city."

Bruce, wry grin…

"It was overdue…"

"So is your time on the West Coast and in Europe…Heck they've still got real Nazis there."

"I just wanted to help a bit. James, we discussed this…Then and recently. Batman didn't trigger the Five Days. I'd never have fought the mobs in the streets. They were afraid of the people not me."

"Fine. And I agree." Gordon nodded. "I merely bring up the lunatic vigilante to make the point that poor and somewhat limited Frankie was hard pressed after his united effort with other criminal organizations failed. Lacking the finesse of dear ole Carlo who always had the proper and elegant solution at hand…i.e., 'Kill 'em all…Except police, pols, or anyone from the Feds…' Carlo had a fine sense of the possible, for all his homicidal tendencies…"

"I agree he didn't give the order to attack the witnesses. He'd nothing to lose from their testimony and he wouldn't've wanted to louse up the deal with Witness Protection…He'd've burned."

"Always the practical man, Carlo…"

"Ok…So? Poor Francis Vallenti…A rough situation for any Mob lieutenant. Well?"

"Well…Frankie'd done his best under the circumstances but found the odds against him. Worst of all, after the Five Days led to a massive increase in state and federal police and FBI support for the new city government, he kept finding his own men, staunch boys of the past, and his girls…Perhaps less reliable but generally dedicated to the goals of the organization in their own interest…Continually deserting ship. Abandoning the lucrative profession of crime for the simpler life in some cases, others turning themselves in for punishment…A few, reasonably placed, offering information…Snitching, if we may use the word…To the legal authorities."

"Does happen. Especially when things aren't going so well for crime and the workers' hearts aren't in it." Bruce noted. "They saw the writing on the wall…"

"It does. But not generally with fellows and ladies of this caliber…Dear Frankie found himself increasingly isolated and even, as he told me, menaced. He was convinced some of his old mates were acting deliberately to bring down the organization, I mean completely. And was sure that on at least one occasion, a faithful lieutenant had intended to assassinate or in some way, assault him."

"Hardly unusual." Bruce shrugged. "As for acting against Carlo…Better offers from up-and-coming organizations?"

"No, actually. No offers. You know that after the initial surge of support and outrage, things settled down once more and people outside Hamilton lost interest, as always…"

"I remember…But the crackdown was a wedge, Jim…"

"Which dear Mayor Redman made good use of, I grant you…But she quickly lost those extra resources and was left on her lonesome, with the same police force formerly notorious for being the most corrupt in the state. Even her husband on the take…And I know he was, Bruce. You couldn't remain a cop in Hamilton then without taking something. Either on the take, off the force, or dead…That was the rule the mobs enforced. Though I will concede he was a decent man and probably hoped to do good by staying." Gordon eyed Wayne calmly. "I was glad we didn't have to send him to prison with some of the others when the federal investigation began, after the five days."

"Iris loved him, Jim. I think that says he was a good man, fundamentally."

"I think so too. Well…Despite the quick loss of interest, first the mobs and cartels, then Carlo's team's remains went down, nothing. In Hamilton, a hotbed of Mob activity, their little local 50's Cuba, the Mob, the cartels, everyone, finished, out."

"Or went underground…" Bruce eyed him. "I've worried about that myself, tried to keep tabs."

"That was my own and the feds' first thought, naturally. Which was why, when dear Francis, rather hapless by then, offered his own services to us, we jumped at the chance."

"Frankie? Your informant?"

"Lets say…He felt safer in Uncle Sam's and Aunt Gotham's protective embrace…"

"And his singing bore fruit?"

"Some…But more interesting was the fact that it seemed that his team, battered and down, was being kept alive, artificially."

"Artificially?"

"Even Frankie, limited as the dear boy was, came to sense it but we noted it first…His team should have buckled what with the defections and what he was giving us, but somehow…Team Valenti kept alive, on life-support, really…A pale shadow of its former self."

"Could he have been using you? Information that kept his group going?"

"We gave him nothing…But more important was what his group was reduced to…Almost no violence, except in keeping the few other organizations trying to poke back in, out. Minor drug trafficking, to long-term users only. Frankie was quite put out that new customers were not being enrolled. Even the prostitution and numbers rackets dried up…"

"Isn't that typical, regards the violence? And Hamilton wasn't crime free, despite the crackdowns, I can testify to that." Bruce insisted.

"Carlo…And dear Francis…Were firm believers in the big stick and its frequent use. And, after the collapse of the other organizations, Frankie found his orders to apply such were often ignored, at least with regards to the non-criminal citizens of Hamilton. Only other criminals seemed to find themselves on the receiving end, till Team Valenti closed down, nearly two years ago. And sure, petty crime, a few serious ones still occurred but without organization and on a declining scale. And Bruce, with the best will in the world, granting Iris Redman everything she's due, Hamilton just didn't have the resources to close Frankie down, let alone all the groups vying for a piece of the pie, once the feds and state left again."

"I've been surprised by things there too, Jim…But people can rise, take their streets back…"

"Sure." Sigh. "But this quickly? The syndicates driven out and shut down in six years? Bruce, we both know there's only three ways that could happen…They go underground or they find new and more profitable territory after devastating the place or…Someone unusual destroys them."

"Are you asking me?"

"No. You'd tell me…And I doubt even you, alone, could have done this."

"And you haven't felt like telling me about all this…?"

"Like you, I hoped it was natural…That's where whoever is involved was especially clever, keeping Team Valenti going on life-support. We assumed, till Frankie came to us, they'd succeeded in driving out the weakened competition while all were under pressure. We overestimated Francis, I suppose." Gordon sighed. "I should have guessed sooner, perhaps I wanted to believe in miracles too."

"All right. Some group's gone underground and let Valenti's boys go on as cover, after taking some of their people…But something's changed that you're calling me in."

"Calling Bruce Wayne in…A man who has won love and support in Hamilton…"

"Well?"

"Whoever's been letting Francis survive decided it was no longer profitable to do so." Gordon noted quietly.

"Dead?"

"Yeah…Despite what should have been fairly effective protection. Though he had been living a more or less free existence."

"Then he knew…Something…"

"We have to assume so…Yes." Nod.

"And did not tell you, though might have decided to…Triggering his death."

"Sadly, we'll never know…Though we do have his assassin and her story…"

"Her?"

"Frankie's favorite girl, Alice Ducree. She claims she got tired of his slapping her around…"

Bruce eyeing him.

"When a girl like Alice decides to off a fellow like Frankie…About thirty minutes after he calls me to arrange an important meeting…" Gordon, quietly.

"


	9. Chapter 9

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part IX...

Office of the Police Commissioner, present day Gotham…

Bruce Wayne frowning at Gordon from his chair…

"So you're saying you think Jack Jensen's involved in this? He and his Tut Society?"

"Max Dikas dies, in my own sight, with 'Oh, Tut' on his lips…A man who thought saying 'I do' to his bride meant he'd married her father the Don." Gordon noted. "Jensen Biotech is the largest player now in Hamilton, legal or criminal, and old man Jensen died facing criminal charges involving connections to organized crime, among others…And his dear and only son after a youth of debauchery and drugs, laced with dealing and prostitution, set up and financed the Tut Society to supposedly honor the man he 'accidently' killed while under the influence…"

"A criminal society? That could get its members to kill themselves?"

"The Mafia, the Tongs…Nazis, Stalin's Communists…ISIS…It's not that hard to get people to kill or even kill themselves, for the cause or just out of fear of worse than death." Gordon noted quietly. "And you should know that two of the City Counselors killed in the first mob attack that opened the Five Days war died calling on Tut, according to the reports from that day…As did at least two other mobsters besides Dikas who turned state's evidence on their own organizations, well after those days."

Bruce staring…

"But the Tuts, even when they were big…"

"Six years ago, just before the Five Days street war…They had rallies of near ten thousand. Not bad for a small city like Hamilton. You remember? Jensen was talked about as a potential political power for a bit."

"I remember." Bruce shook head. "And I can tell you that Henry and I at least were ready to go on any show that would have us to denounce him, before his hold on the movement started to wane. Still…They were cultish, but they called for more police, tougher laws, they encouraged the crackdown…Heck, they joined the police in fighting the mobs in the streets those five days…"

"Not the first time a crime gang's clothed itself in fair robes to eliminate rivals…And the rivals were certainly eliminated."

"But after Jensen cut them loose…And he does seem to have broke with them for good when they seemed to question his leadership...And Henry refused to support them in his grandfather's name, they've barely been heard from…." Bruce noted. "I mean I've no love for Jack Jensen and I know they still have an organization in Hamilton but…"

"Not the first time a group like that's served its purpose and been cut loose. And Jack Jensen now helps run Jensen Biotech…" Gordon noted. "From spoiled punk drug dealer/pimp to community organizer/cult leader to high-power executive…Not a bad career chart."

"You think he's running a gang out of there, now?"

"If he does, they're very good at keeping their noses clean and above board… But that's not unheard of. Max Shreck was pretty good at that as you may recall, in our own fair Gotham, among others."

"I don't know. Jack Jensen's clever, I grant you…Competent enough in what Jen Jensen lets him do, from what I've seen of him over the last five years. But this seems beyond him. To outwit Tambino and the other mobs? And the Columbians and other cartels?"

"Someone did…" Gordon shrugged. "If you have a better candidate…Though I can think of one…"

"Jen Jensen…" Bruce nodded thoughtfully. "She's that smart, I won't deny it. Ruthless as Dad when she took over the firm from him, I can vouch for that. Though the last few years, since dear ole dad nearly went to prison and died just in time to avoid it…."

"Which was convenient, for a bright and upcoming daughter who was heir to all…" Gordon, archly. "And she did play a major role in Dad's trial. The evidence she turned over, much as she claimed to believe it would exonerate him from the worst charges, was crucial…"

"Henry keeps me informed as to noncompetitive things. He's never seen anything going on to date…" Bruce noted.

"And we have nothing on Jensen Biotech, despite some careful reviews. Squeaky clean, totally aboveboard. But it doesn't rule out more going on…"

"And Jack Jr., while Senior had shown some surprising affection, wasn't likely to ever be awarded the top seat…" Bruce nodded. "You think black sheep half-brother and sis struck a deal to run more than the company?"

"Again…Not unheard of…"

"And the Tuts, a gang under cover to shatter the other gangs and bring in fed support against them? Why abandon them, then? They were still on a roll afterwards…Some of their people were lauded for bravery."

"Maybe they attracted too much attention…" Gordon sighed. "Caught on too well with the desperate masses and veered off Jensen's program. I hear the lunatic vigilante had a boatload of followers ready to don the cowl at times."

Wayne frowning at Gordon's arch look…

"The gang drove the others out with some federal and state help. Jensen didn't need them anymore and when the folks who really cared about the city gave him some trouble, he cut them loose…" Bruce pondered. "Could be, but what about this thing with Dikas…That sounds like an inner circle, if it's true."

"True believers or just true members…Latin Kings on the inner circle, Rotarians outside. Been done. And if he wanted cover for the real gang…A lot of well-meaning, clueless followers would've been useful in the early stages." Gordon shrugged.

"And Frankie Valenti? You think his girl was in with Jensen? Why kill him now instead of two years ago when his gang went down? You think he had some proof of what they were about?"

"I would say I keep all options open…" Gordon, wry smile. "And I wish I knew…"

"Jim, apart from my interest in crime as a concerned citizen and major employer in Hamilton, I have family involved here. If Henry could be in danger working for Jensen, if his family could be in danger…. And Anna's still a member of the Society, I understand. She's still fragile, Jim. I wouldn't want to see her recovery endangered, it's meant a lot to Henry and Pam. I need to know." Bruce insisted.

"I wish I could tell you I had solid evidence. All I have is what I've told you so far and just a bit more…Which is why I need Bruce Wayne, Hamilton's second largest private employer." Smile.

"You want me to poke around…And Henry as well? Jim, I can't endanger the Tuthills here, they're family."

"I wouldn't ask you to. In fact, I hope I'm warning you about danger. But I do need someone with contacts in Hamilton and at Jensen to 'poke'. We…And I mean my fed friends…Haven't been able to make much headway apart from what I've said."

"And 'a bit more…'?" Bruce noted.

"Alice Ducree was a dues paying member of the Tut Society…For at least the past two years." Gordon noted.

Phone buzz on Gordon's desk as Wayne sat back.

"Yes? What?" Gordon frowned, then sighed. Eyeing Wayne…

Uh-oh…Bruce nodded.

I'd guess that's a personal Batsignal…

…..

Friday morning, 6am…

"Master Bruce…" Alfred called from the large, solidly massive mahogany bedroom door… "Second call. Six am. Busy day."

"Uh…Right…" Wayne replied, turning in bed. "Did Danielle call?"

"Danielle came early…" cheery call from behind Alfred… "Though not that early."

"Oh…Geesh…" Wayne quickly covering. "Could I've just a minute?"

"Really can't see that much in those jammies." Danielle, chuckling. "They're nice though. Green suits you."

"The boy's always been a bit sensitive about personal privacy." Alfred noted to Ms. Dane. "Why don't we give him a moment and go have coffee."

"Yeah, just let me throw something on and brush my teeth." Call… "Be right out. Alfred, you have my suit? I'll change when we get to Hamilton."

"In the kitchen, pressed and ready to go. Shall I bring it in the car with me?"

"Yeah, probably best…I'll hook up with you at Town Hall. I want to see Iris Redman before the ceremony anyway. Just a minute, Danielle. Sorry to be running late, that board meeting stretched on all day and then I had other things..."

Alfred reflecting on said "other things" which had included a two hour very early morning clash with The Dealer, a vain and rather insane former real estate developer/politician who blamed Batman for his exposure as a crime lord and conman, leading to his downfall and impeachment as Governor after a brief reign of tyranny in Gotham State a dozen years before. His scheme for blackmailing Gotham on a grand scale by dynamiting several of the blocks of cheap and inadequate but overcrowded apartments and condos across the City built by his criminal company in the past, then threatening thousands more, and his escape to a friendly foreign dictatorship with important federal secrets, thwarted.

Well, at least the vicious fellow had had the decency to let himself be defeated quickly. Now on his way back to continue a long sentence at Gotham State.

Cannot believe with his record of crime and corruption he still had idiot admirers willing to help him escape prison…But his vainglorious boast that he could kill Batman in broad daylight on Seventh Avenue and the fools would vote him back into office was not likely to ever be tested now.

"It's fine…" Danielle called. "But I'll want to know what you're seeing the Mayor of Hamilton about, unless it's top secret business related." She paused, listening. "If it's top secret, I wanna come…"

"Sorry, water running!" Bruce lied, rather transparently.

"Shall we, Ms. Dane?" Alfred suggested.

"Sounds good." She beamed.

…..

The breakfast nook…

"Really sorry…I was a little overtired. Alfred did call me on time." Bruce noted sheepishly as he entered in casual outfit…Hair a bit mussed.

"I know. I was there when he did." Danielle nodded from her seat, waving coffee mug. She well-coiffed and in red dress. Her black overcoat hanging near. "Fortunately Mr. Pennyworth is as early a riser as me." Grin.

"My military training. Coffee, Master Bruce?" Alfred offered mug.

"God, yes…" he took the proffered mug…Taking seat by Danille.

"Well? Like the place?" he asked her.

"It'll do…" she shrugged with smile. "Though I haven't seen all of it yet."

"Well…We are running early for me…" he hesitated.

"And me, actually. But I kinda wanted to get in a little time with you before all the crowds, it being our first real date." She grinned.

"You did hear that, Alfred? Real…Date…" Bruce, turning to Alfred.

"At six am. I must say the young lady is likely a keeper, Master Bruce."

"Oh, I've won over Dad already…" Danielle grinned.

"Don't gloat…At this stage, he'd be glad if I brought home a homeless lady of sixty."

"Only if she were a kind and sweet homeless person, Master Bruce." Alfred, non-committal look.

"Given I'm learning to edit, I'll take that as 'she's kind and sweet'." Danielle, sly grin.

"Indeed, Ms. Dane." Alfred nodded. Slight inward qualm…

So like…

Still, there's no Harvey Dent on the field this time. Fates, be kind for once to my poor boy…

…..

The Grand Hall of Wayne Manor…

Danielle following Bruce through the room, peering at tapestry and wall carvings.

"Quite a place…" she looked round. "Bit museumy…For two people, I mean."

"I suppose." He looked about as well. "But to me, it's home."

"Some home…" she nodded. "But it never seems a little too big to you?"

"Once in a while…But you have to remember I've lived here forever. It was where I grew up, with my parents. Back then, it was a pretty happy place even for an only child."

"You know the biographers compare you to FDR. He was an only child, too."

"And find me sadly deficient in guts and stamina by comparison, I know. But I didn't have Eleanor to brace me up."

"Not all of them are so hard on you…" she noted. "You've done some great things with Wayne Enterprises…And your civic work."

"Thanks…" smile.

"I'm sounding like a reporter, aren't I? I don't want this part of the day to be an interview…Sorry."

"It's ok. I'm glad you don't consider me a total goof-off and playboy. Not a few do…"

"No. I don't." she eyed him. "But just stop me if I start doing reporter again. I wanna do this right, Bruce. Sorry if I'm a little nervous at first."

"Just remember I'm scared of you, too. But I'm on our side." He smiled, taking her hand.

"Ok…" she nodded, beaming. "So…Show off your house to your date…" she waved. He grinned, stepping back toward the hall's grandly paneled wall. Right, then.

"My grandfather built the place or had it built, of course. Though some of the room burned during that fire you so graciously attributed to my selfless effort to help Batman corner a foe."

"Will you ever tell me if I'm right to?"

"The day we're married." He smiled.

She blinking…

"Sorry…I get enthusiastic. Alfred can tell you."

"So he has…"

"Hope it wasn't all dire warnings…" he smiled.

"Oh, no. He plugged you to the skies." She grinned, a bit nervously.

Married…?

"Was I outta bounds there?" he eyed her still slightly stunned look…

"Oh, no…Just don't hear things like that from billionaires every day."

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to throw you. Especially on date one."

"Are you taking it back?" she eyed him.

"No." he smiled.

"Well…Then lets see how date one goes and I'll hold it over your head later…"

"Ok…" nod.


	10. Chapter 10

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part X...

Gotham State Parkway…

"So you've never been in Hamilton before, except for your story?" Bruce asked as Danielle drove her Kia, glancing at him from time to time.

"Only passing through…" she noted. "When I first came to Gotham from Seattle I was warned to keep my distance. 'Bad things happen to pretty girls in Hamilton', was the advice, I believe. But what I saw when I came through to speak to the police chief and Counselor Winters a couple of weeks ago for my story looked nice. Very clean, especially compared to parts of Gotham, like around my place unfortunately."

"It's changed the past few…You'll wanna take the next exit, for that diner…"

"The best in Gotham State, eh? Better be sure…" she grinned. "I'm not only hungry, I come from a land of great diners."

"Moe's Silver Eagle'll pass muster, I'm sure."

"Sounds interesting, anyway…" she nodded, signaling for a turn.

"And this way you get the scenic route along the river into town…" he noted.

"You mean where the mobs used to dump the bodies?" she eyed him. "I"ve read the stories about the great stink of 67."

"I understand they've dredged them all out."

"Wish I'd been there…" she noted to his bemused look. "Well, they do say one was Jimmy Nostra, the missing labor guy…I'd've loved to have camera on that first view." Grin. "Sorry, a reporter's gotta be a ghoul sometimes, it's a tough business."

"Confidentially…" he looked about. "Nostra's actually buried in the new Gotham City Tower foundation..."

"I've heard that too. Gotta source?"

"Batman…Though he swears it wasn't him."

"Really? As in, seriously?"

"Seriously. The Tambinos…Nostra was getting to be too much of a liability."

"Wow." She gave him quick sidelong glance.

"Batman's account…That's all I can say." He put up hands.

"But did he know? Did he actually see it? Sorry, but this is too good." She eyed him. "Well?"

"He told Jim Gordon and me he saw it happen. He couldn't intervene, too far away."

"Wow. That is something… But how could he be sure, if…Sorry…Reporter's instincts…"

"It's ok. He'd followed them closer, trying to get the goods on their dealings. He didn't know Carlo Tambino had decided Jimmy's fate already."

"Yikes." She shook head… "Left or…?" She indicated the road they'd stopped at off the exit ramp.

"Right, I mean right…Not left."

"Righto, Moe…"

"A Stooges fan?"

"I have many sides to me…" grin.

"'Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety…'"

"Antony and Cleopatra, nice to hear the billionaire reads." Smile. "But far too flattering, for a first date." Mock-reproving tone.

"Really?"

"No. But I want to seem modest…"

He chuckled…

"And there must be Moe's…" she noted, indicating sign and Moe's Silver Eagle diner, itself, before them, on the right.

"Think Gotham Tower would let us dig him up? For History's sake?" she asked as she pulled in. He regarded her winsome look.

"Ok, I know you're on the board there…" she smiled.

"And love History as much as the next billionaire but I think they'd be concerned about the structural integrity of the tower. Besides, I already asked after Batman told us."

"Darn…There goes my scoop. Don't tease me like that."

"I could try and get Batman on tape about it. Jim would confirm what he heard."

"You're a keeper, too." She beamed. "But a bit too tabloid…'Mysterious vigilante claims to have answer in Nostra disappearance…' With no body, might as well be the Inquirer."

"Well, I'll try the board again…If you like. Or we could try sneaking in and unearthing Jim ourselves one night. I have keys and a pick and shovel somewhere in the house."

"A Hardy Boy, eh? Definitely a keeper. Ok, it's a second date. I'll bring sandwiches and my digging jeans." She grinned, pulling into a spot and cutting the engine.

"Well…" she looked over at the diner, unbuckling seat belt. "Smells good. Looks…Like a diner." She emerged from the driver's door, Bruce from his side.

"I recommend the 'recycled hash and eggs'…Moe likes to exploit current political correctness… But only today. Tomorrow, they're recycled from fish, not so good." He noted, coming over to her.

"I'll bear that in mind." She angled elbow up. "Here, you can show Moe you managed to land a TV reporter. Otherwise he'll think I'm just trying to get a story outta ya."

He put arm in hers…

"I mean since that's only part of it…" she smiled to his smile.

…..

The Tuthill home, Hamilton…

"So Bruce is coming?" Pamela Tuthill, twenty-seven now, tall and slim, with curly long hair, in darkly elegant business suit, eyed her brother as they sat at the kitchen table. Anna urging them to take more pancakes from a large stack on plate on table as she passed, bearing a platter of eggs which she set down.

"Pamela, you ought to take that jacket off…" Anna urged. "You'll get it all messed."

"Sooory, Mama." Pam smiled to Anna's shaking head, then rose to quickly slide jacket onto chair….

"Of course…" Henry nodded. "He'd never miss Founders Day. And he wants us to come to the Manor, Sunday, for dinner. He says Alfred will do British Barbeque…." Smile.

"Yum…Hmmn…I do have a lot to get through this weekend." She hesitated. Henry giving disappointed look.

"But for my Alfie and Bruce, of course I'll come. And for Brit BBQ." She grinned.

"Good. Cause Alfred says Bruce has a girl for us to meet." Henry, arch smile. "Though we will see her today, at least quick."

"A girl?" Pam stared… "But I'm his girl." She gave mock-sorrowful stare, shaking head dolefully.

"He's a heartbreaker." Henry nodded.

"Is she nice? Pretty?" Pam asked, eagerly.

"Alfred says so. We'll get a gander today, more time tomorrow." He nodded.

"Mr. Wayne has a girlfriend?" Anna had sat down, looking at her children happily. "That's wonderful."

"It's horrible…I'm the only one for him." Pam grinned. "Well, maybe she's old and ugly…"

"Not as Alfred says…" Henry gave solemn look.

"Dang…Well, Alf's my guy anyway. I was just humoring Bruce."

"Pamela…" Anna smiled reprovingly as she sipped at a glass of juice. "Mr. Pennyworth's very sweet but a bit old for you."

"Not at all…He's the finest man I know and our souls are of equal age." Archly solemn look. "Besides, when I'm seventy, he'll be one hundred and eleven, no big deal."

"I hope you don't say things like that to him."

"Mama…Could I do better than Alf?" mock-firm stare. "I mean Bruce not being available…"

"You worry me sometimes, Pamela." Anna sighed, rising to fetch more juice.

"She's just kidding…" Henry grinned. "Mama, you should sit and eat."

"Not if I have any brains I'm not…And I hope my degree says 'Pam Tuthill got brains'." Pam, firmly.

"You'll embarrass poor Mr. Pennyworth if he hears this talk." Anna took seat by her.

"I'm not good enough for my Alf, that's for sure…" mock sigh.

"Nope." Henry agreed.

"Mr Tuthill…" Teddy, the burly security agent from the previous evening had come to the kitchen doorway.

"Yes, Ted? Just a minute." Henry got up and came to him.

"Mr. Broadhurst." Pam nodded to him, he smiling to her.

"Won't you have breakfast, Teddy?" Anna asked.

"No, Ma'am, on duty. I've eaten though. I'm sorry to interrupt…"

"Be right back." Henry told them from the doorway, following Broadhurst out.

"He's very nice…And not bad looking." Pam smiled at Anna who'd watched him go… "Not bad for you, Mama."

"Pamela…" reproving tone.

…..

"Sorry to break protocol on a family day, sir." Broadhurst eyed Henry.

"That's all right, Teddy. It's just you. What's the problem?"

"Nothing serious, sir. Susan and I were just concerned about the reduced security today, sir."

"I can't have the full complement chasing about in public on Founders' Day, you know that Ted." Henry noted. "Questions would be asked. We've never had trouble before."

"I understand, my lord…But…" Broadhurst, a bit anxious. "It's our duty to protect you, sir. And with so many people not of the Society present. Especially after the recent incident with Mr. Valenti…"

"There'll be hundreds of followers there, Ted. And this is Founders' Day, in the new era. The gangs are not able to make trouble now… I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern." Kindly nod.

"Sir, the Valenti incident may have raised unanticipated problems. He did have connections in the national underworld and there are a few gangs still probing for openings. As a loyal follower, sir…I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, my Lord…" anxious look. "None of the staff could…And the work, O Tut…" pleading tone.

"Teddy." Stern look. "I'm Henry Tuthill today. That's all."

"Sorry, Mr Tuthill." Nod.

"Don't worry, Mr. Valenti was alone, his people gone, his standing in the criminal underworld was just about nil after the decline of his group. It's unfortunate we had to act with him but he was partially immune to the early generations of riders and the new generations are still in testing mode." sigh.

"Ms. Ducree, despite her initial mistake, did the best she could, under the circumstances. He was no loss, sir. A vicious gangster, it was only money and fear that kept him quiet until he learned about the new generation from her."

"She did love him, Teddy. And she was only advanced first generation, she couldn't help wanting to let him know he could join her in the Society soon. I feel terrible about her having to take action like that." Henry sighed. "But, given his connections with the police and federal authorities we couldn't have made him a follower the way Dikas was…The control needed would have been much too obvious."

"She was strong in Tut, my Lord. I hope she will remain so…" Teddy hesitated.

"You think she won't? There's never been a problem with her."

"Sometimes, under emotional stress…" Teddy shrugged. "We've had problems before with first generation. I realize you're far more aware than I of such things, Mr. Tuthill."

"I don't want her or anyone else to take action about her, for now, Ted." Henry shook head. "I'm sure she'll stick to her story and remain strong."

"I hope so, sir." Teddy nodded. "Of course I'll follow your orders."

"IF it relieves your mind, you can be my sole guard today. Bruce Wayne and others have seen you as security chief at Jensen. It should be fine." Henry smiled at the man, reassuring pat. "There's nothing strange in Jen wanting me to have a bodyguard…Just don't overdo, ok?"

"Yes, sir. I'd like that, sir."

"It'll be easier when we raise you to third generation…Or higher…" Henry noted. He eyed Broadhurst's concerned look.

"Ted?"

"I don't know if raising me so high in independence is a good idea, sir…With all due respect. Your security chief should have nothing to concern him but your safety and his duty to you."

"You'd still do your duty, Ted. You'd just be a bit less controlled."

"It's a question of instincts sometimes, sir." Broadhurst shook head. "I'd be worried that my own concerns might cloud my judgment."

"I'll always have dedicated people about me, Ted. And I'd like you more independent…Within guidelines… As I've told you, I do hope…Though I'd never force it on you…"

"I'd be happy to make your mother happy, my Lord. It would be an honor, if you will it."

"I'd rather see you more or less chose it for yourself, Ted. I think Momma would sense you were only going through the motions for duty's sake."

"As you wish, sir…" Ted sighed. "It's hard for me to see how I could be of better service under less control but Tu.. You know best, of course."

"I prefer you rely on me, Ted, not Him. He's just a symbol, you know. I worry sometimes…" Henry paused. "But, it will be right, in the end. The new generations allow complete independence, with guidance. There won't be a need for Him…Me." Sheepish look.

"That can never be so, sir…" Teddy, quickly.

"I want it to be so, Ted." Henry replied firmly. "I don't intend to rule, we're doing this to help people. Tut's…" he paused. "…rule is necessary for now, but He can't be permanent. I don't want Him to be. If you want to serve the Society and the people…And help me, you'll want that too."

"Yes, Mr. Tuthill." Teddy nodded.

"I hope you will get on with Momma…I am sorry about Susan, truly." Henry sighed. "It was my fault…I didn't fully anticipate problems."

"Susan is an excellent assistant chief, sir. You've no reason to consider her a failure." Broadhurst, firmly. "Your taking her into your service was a great honor to her and to me, sir."

"Yes, sure…" Henry sighed. "I hope you don't miss her too much, Ted."

"Sir? We work together all the time." Teddy, genuinely puzzled.

"Of course…Forget I mentioned it." Henry nodded. "Anyway, I should get back. Don't worry about your elevation. It's a good thing and necessary if we're to progress. I'll be fine. And try to enjoy yourself a bit today…It's important you seem your old self with outsiders. Ok?"

"I will heed your words, sir." Broadhurst bowed.


	11. Chapter 11

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part XI...

Thirteen years previous…

Hamilton Central Police Station…

Alfred, opening the rear door of the car to let young Henry Tuthill out, looked a bit grimly around the battered street. Downtown Hamilton, such as it was, a collection of boarded up, burnt-out, or barely occupied, older office buildings, a motley collection of homeless wandering about, even to the steps of the police station, a large, grimly gray concrete building at the head of the once rather elegant now battered and garbage-strewn central plaza, with rather poorly maintained statue of city namesake Alexander Hamilton in center. Wayne emerging from his side in front, likewise looking round.

"Doesn't look like the best place to park a Lexus…" he wryly noted. "But…"

"There's a parking garage over there. I'll pull the car in while you take young Master Henry in."

"Maybe we oughta go with you, Alfred." Bruce winced at the sight of two homeless men fighting across the street. A cop watching them, amused at the sight…

"I'll be quite all right. I'm sure Master Henry wants to see his sister and mother as soon as possible."

Henry eyeing Bruce, shaking head…

"I think we can go together Alfred." Bruce urged.

"Gentlemen. I may be an older man, but I assure you both…" Alfred smiled at Henry… "I can handle myself for two blocks. Now, please…Go in and I'll be with you shortly."

"It'll be ok, Henry. Lets go." Bruce nodded.

Henry reluctantly taking his hand, they crossed the street.

"He'll be fine. Alfred's a tough old bird. I pity anyone who tries to tangle with him." Bruce noted, with wry smile, as Henry looked back to the car now pulling out. "He's an old soldier, my dad hired him as our security chief and estate manager mainly because of his military record."

Henry nodded. Another nervous look back…

"My granddad was pretty tough, too… He was in the Navy, a long time ago."

"I am sorry, Henry. But Alfred's very experienced and ready for any surprises, I promise you."

"Ok…Will they let us see Pam?" anxious look at the large ornate wood and glass door at the top of the stairs before them. The beauty of the door marred by the various paints splattered on the antique glass and the heavy dents and scrapings years of violent attacks on the door had left on the carved wooden frame…

"Ms. Redman's in there now in back with the police, getting some things done, she'll bring us to her."

They walked up the stairs…Henry pausing…

"She said they'd keep her, tonight." He eyed Bruce.

"It might be the best thing for her, but lets see…"

"I don't want her to be alone…Or with bad people…"

"She won't be, we'll make sure someone's with her and that she's safe in a good place."

"Thanks."

"Sure." They entered a large reception hall with several desks, some occupied, others empty…A few civilians seated on benches and several cops scattered about eyeing them with interest. Wayne leading Henry to a desk where a seated officer had waved him over.

"Bruce Wayne, I'm supposed to meet the family services director here…Iris Redman?" he addressed a desk officer regarding him.

"She's in back, talking with the Chief." The officer, a woman in her forties, told him, glancing at Henry beside him. "Have a seat and I'll have her paged."

"Thanks…Come on, Henry." Wayne led him over as the officer spoke into a phone. The same cops who'd eyed them on arrival still watching them as they sat. One grinning to another, poking him slightly.

Wayne frowning as a large, well-built older man in casual, but clearly expensive, sweater and slacks, clothes strode over to them from the other side of the room where he'd stood, making a cell call.

The spitting image of Dean Wormer of "Animal House" as always, Bruce thought, straightening to meet the approaching Jackson Jensen, Sr. head on.

"Wayne…Slumming tonight, I see." Jensen, offering a large hand which Wayne shook coolly.

"Jensen. Just bringing my friend Henry here to see his sister."

"Yes." Jensen eyed Henry briefly. "The girl's brother."

"Archibald Tuthill's grandson." Bruce noted quietly.

"Of course. How are you, son?" Jensen addressed Henry, fake hearty tone, offering hand which Henry took reluctantly.

"It's a damned shame about your grandfather…But I'll take care of everything, don't worry." Jensen insisted. "Wayne, a moment? Son, I need to speak with Mr. Wayne, could you wait here?" he indicated a bench.

"I don't want to leave…" Wayne began, Henry looking at him anxiously, as Alfred suddenly entered, calmly regarding them all, immediately sensing a confrontation and moving to support.

"Master Bruce, all's secure. Master Henry?" Alfred a bit startled as Henry ran to him, hugging. "It's all right, dear boy." He patted Henry gently on shoulder.

"Alfred, could you stay with Henry just a minute? The officer there's called Iris Redman, she should be here shortly. Jack here and I need to speak a moment." Bruce eyed Alfred, careful look as Jensen eyed both men.

"Of course. Henry, why don't we sit and await Ms. Redman over by the desk? Perhaps she'll choose to call there first." Alfred suggested, Henry eagerly nodding. They went off to the duty desk, Henry holding Alfred's firm hand.

"Jack?"

"Why are you here, Wayne?" Jensen, sternly. "With that boy?"

"I told you, I'm bringing Henry in to see his sister. I might ask the same of you."

"I'll take charge of these children…You can leave the boy with me."

"And why would I do that?"

"Wayne. This involves my son, as I'm sure you know. If you have something in mind here…"

"Just to see these kids are safe, Jack."

"Then…Mission Accomplished. Have a good evening." Jensen, slight sneer.

"I'm not leaving these kids in your hands, Jensen. The only witnesses to what your son did…"

"Jack did not kill that old man!" Jensen hissed, tersely…Some heat in his voice.

"The police think different."

"That tramp of a daughter…" Jensen sputtered. Wayne, coldly insistent look, leading him farther from the center of the room, to a quieter corner. Henry and Alfred now seated on bench next to the duty desk.

"Your son's girl…Mistress? Though it's news to me to hear you speaking of having a son. You've never mentioned him that I know of."

"You're cute, Wayne." Jensen, grimly. "What is this? Blackmail? Lets be upfront here."

"It's about two kids who just witnessed a horrible thing and have no one…"

"I'll take charge of them. Jack was concerned with their mother for some time, yes…Hell, he could be their father for all I know…"

"No, he wasn't. Their father died in prison in California a few years ago. Listen, Jack…I couldn't care less about you or your son whatever you think but I won't let these kids suffer, particularly at your hands just because they witnessed your son acting like an animal…"

Jensen flushing angrily…

"The boy says he didn't harm the man! If these brats are claiming he did….Probably to protect that tramp…That addict…"

"Whom your son lived with for some time…During his less than illustrious career…" Wayne, calmly. "Jack, I mean what I said. I don't care about you or your son…That's for the police. But these kids…"

"They'll be fine in my care, Wayne. What, you think I'd harm them?"

"Terrorize to give whatever testimony you want, yes."

"I ought to punch you right in the mouth, you effete son of a bitch!" Jensen glared, tensing.

"Bad place to do it…"

"Actually…" Jensen sneered, looking round. "This stinkhole of a town is probably the best place…"

"Maybe…" Wayne tensed… "But I have better PR and more money to buy more lawyers." He noted.

Jensen eyed him…Calming…

"All I want is to see these kids safe, Jack. That's all. This is no ploy against you or Jensen, Inc."

"So you say…" Jensen looked at him. "Fine, the great liberal do-gooder Bruce Wayne wants to save the…Children. Very nice…Looks good on the front page. Where are the reporters to document your philanthropy, by the way?"

"Frankly, I'm surprised they're not here, interviewing you and Jack Jr."

"I have a few friends in the media…And the police here are easily bought to keep quiet. As are the mayor, city council, most of the social services…" mocking smile. "Unless you want a bidding war…I'd back off. Jensen does have a footprint here and I can offer an expansion fairly quickly. Jobs and tax revenue long term are sure to appeal to the greedy leeches here."

"If the publicity's all that matters to you…And I can see why you'd want to keep this quiet for Jen as well as Jensen, Inc…Let me get the kids settled and you'll find it a lot easier…"

"And what about my boy?" Jensen, grimly. Eyeing Wayne carefully… "I see. You think this is all about the publicity. The damage to my business. And of course to Jen, which does matter to me… Well, Bruce." Grim smile. "Screw the fucking publicity. If it'll save my boy, I'll gladly have every reporter in Gotham down here tonight."

Wayne stared…

"Surprised, eh? I kept my son hidden, like a secret shame…That what you think?"

Bruce sighed… "Honestly, Jack. I don't know what to think."

"His mother, the Tee-Vee star…" Jensen sneered. "Was no good, of course…She took all she could and got out after I made it clear I wanted a wife and a mother for my children, not a trophy and model to display part-time. But she couldn't be satisfied with taking all she could financially, she wanted the boy too. Not for any reason except so that she could forever use him to go on milking me, you can be sure. I managed to keep partial custody, and despite all she'd gotten to agree to that, she decided to do everything she could to make him hate me. And believe I'd rejected him rather than done all I could to keep him mine. Vindictive as well as greedy, charming combination…"

Sigh…

"He hated me, understandably…Not only for what she'd done to poison him for me, but I was hard with him. Because I wanted him to be my son…To take over one day. So I was hard with him. You have no children, or so I've always heard?" careful stare.

"No. Though Dick Grayson was a son to me."

"Then you may be able to understand…I love that boy, whatever he may think, but I lost him…Partly to his mother, partly to my own efforts to make him my son. He broke from me and lived, as he has. I supported him, against my own principles, and not in the style to which he'd become accustomed, but I couldn't abandon him." Jensen shook head. "I always hoped, once he'd got it out of his system…If I could have another chance… But, he sank lower and lower, probably in reaction to me, and in the end I couldn't do anything to get him back. I turned to Jen as my successor. She'd always wanted it anyway, though I'd tried to leave a place for Jack." Sigh… "She's all I could hope for in a son…And something of a monster as a daughter… But now…After I'd convinced myself I'd cut him loose, that I'd never see him again, never lift another finger to help him outside the little I'd seen he'd get, to keep him alive…" shaking head. "Here I am…And all I know is, my boy is in danger…And I have to save him." An anxious look, under the grim stare…

"I'm sorry, Jack." Wayne eyed him. "But you can't protect him by silencing the kids."

"I wouldn't hurt them, whatever you think of me, Wayne. The mother, perhaps…She's a tramp and help lead my boy to this…" Almost pleading look now. "He swears he didn't kill Tuthill, he was dead when he arrived, he just picked up the knife in his confusion and tried to move the body…Bruce. I believe him. And I won't let him fry for that woman."

"You think Anna killed Tuthill." Bruce eyed him.

"I don't really care. But yes, very likely. She was an addict, a whore, whom yes, Jack pimped round, and fought with Tuthill before. Charming daughter, eh? Made to order, far as I'm concerned." His face no longer angry red but suddenly ashen…

"You find it hard to believe that I'd try to save a son like that…A pimp, a drug dealer…?" cold smile. "Not exactly the image the world has of me, eh?"

"I've no idea what I'd do in the same situation…If it were my son…" Wayne regarded him.

"All right, suppose we come to terms…" Jensen waved a hand. "The children probably aren't Jack's as you say so I've no great desire to them, only that they not condemn him to save their mother. You say you want to help them. Well, to help them you'll have to help my boy." Jensen, firmly.

"And just what 'help' did you have in mind? I can't get him off a murder charge…"

"It won't be murder if there are no witnesses." Jensen noted, sharp-eyed stare. "If the children say they saw nothing…Well, the mother is an addict, there's no direct proof. The court will be lenient…Manslaughter at worse. Jack will only say what he knows…Tit for tat."

"And if the boy did kill Professor Tuthill?"

"I said I believe him." Jensen, firmly. "Jack's many things but not a murderer. It's far more likely the mother, she hated the man, from what Jack says and what I've dug up on her. Well?"

"Henry says he didn't see his grandfather murdered…" Bruce paused.

"Excellent. That only leaves the girl, another addict."

"Barely a teen, hooked by your son, Henry says. To get her out on the street."

"You say you want to help these children. Why, your business…" Jensen, calmly. "But if you want to avoid exposing them to scandal…Not to mention life with me and my daughter, which you no doubt would consider a grim fate…"

"Your son says nothing that would incriminate Ms. Tuthill…"

"He saw nothing, like your boy…" shrug. "Fine by me. The Sherlocks here will no doubt finger her on circumstantial evidence. Given the extent of her addiction and the sort of lawyers you and I can afford…I'm quite willing to go halves here…We should probably be able to get her off with a light sentence, perhaps just a rehab detention."

"I speak to Jack first." Bruce insisted.

Jensen, slight sneering chuckle. "Saint Bruce needs but look into the eyes and can tell the sinner from victim."

"Jack's no victim regardless. But I want to meet him."

"Just what good would that do? Ease your conscience?" Jensen regarded him.

"Yes, if I find myself believing him…" Bruce nodded. "You want me to help save your boy. That's my price. That and no interference with the Tuthill children, from you or Jack, now and in the future. And I'll take care of the mother, see that she gets legal help and rehab."

"Fine." Jensen agreed. "But I expect a deal even if you don't agree with me about the boy, Wayne."

"You'll have one." Bruce nodded.

"Really? Even if you have doubts?"

"There's no hard evidence but the knife and Jack's presence. The lawyers you could hire would get him off. But they'd make life hell for the children. And it's already been and will be enough hell for them."

"All right then. I'll have us taken in to the boy." Jensen nodded. "Thanks."

…..

Holding cell within the station's small jail…

"Bruce Wayne?" I move in rarified circles these days…" cynical look from the tall, slim man, aged about thirty, eyeing him.

"Jack."

"Jackson, Mr. Wayne…As in, son of Jack. I'm the Crown Prince, you know." Jack, Jr., wan grin. "Eh, Dad?" he eyed Jensen standing next to Wayne outside the cell.

"Don't talk nonsense, boy." Jensen frowned, but some anxiety in tone. "Wayne's agreed to help me get you out of this."

"There's nothing to get me 'out' of, 'Dad'…" Jack Jr. frowned. "I didn't kill that ole fool."

"So your father tells me…" Wayne regarded him calmly.

"Dear ole 'Dad', always there for me." Jack Jr. nodded. "Is Anna ok?"

"It's better if you stop asking about her, son." Jensen, rather surprisingly gently.

"The hell with you…" Jack Jr. glared. "Is she ok?" he addressed Wayne.

"About what you'd expect…" Wayne noted. "Strung out, hysterical, so far as I know though getting decent care…You're lucky. She can barely manage a coherent sentence. You're sure to have no problem pinning this on her."

"Wayne…You son of a bitch." Jensen, grimly, turning on him.

"She couldn't have done it." Jack Jr insisted… "She could barely get out of bed these last two days."

"Someone did…" Bruce, coldly. "Unless you're insisting he fell on his own knife."

"I didn't. And I doubt she did. What more do you want me to say…Bruce?" sneer.

"That's enough. It'll do." Wayne nodded. "You're either a very good liar or you're actually trying to protect her, a little…A very little… All right, Jensen…" he turned to Jensen, Sr. "I'll do what I can, so long as you keep up your end. And neither of you ever sees the Tuthill children."

"Fine…Jack? You agree?" Jensen eyed his son.

"I've no great interest in Anna's rats…" Jack Jr. smiled. "But I need to hear that Anna will be ok?" he eyed both men.

"I mean, I might wanna make her legit one day…Eh, Dad?" grin.

…

Wayne emerged from the cell area to the main reception hall alone to find Iris Redman with Alfred and Henry…

"Mr. Wayne…" she nodded to him.

"Understand you've met Mr. Jensen, Jr….And Sr." sardonic look.

"Hmmn-hmmn. How's Pamela? And Mrs. Tuthill?"

"Both well as can be expected." Ms. Redman nodded.

"Can I see Pam?" Henry asked.

"I don't think so, not tonight, Henry." Ms. Redman shook head. "She's sleeping. But she's in a hospital room and she's being well looked after. Your mom too. I swear." She beamed.

He nodded…Then looked at Bruce…

"Any chance we could just look in on her…The sister…Just for a moment?" Wayne tried.

Ms. Redman sighed. Stepping back a bit, clearly intending for Wayne to follow which he did.

"It's a safe place but not really a place for the boy to see…At least on the night shift." she hissed. "She's got her own room but they've handcuffed her."

"She's not a suspect?" Wayne asked.

"Routine procedure for this sort of situation, my husband says." She shrugged. "I think I can get her out tomorrow, to any place you can find but tonight it's probably for the best. She'll be all right. The mother's there too…She'll be charged, tomorrow, as I told you."

He nodded and stepped back to where Henry waited with Alfred.

"Henry, the doctors prefer to keep Pam and your mom sleeping. I think we'd better see them tomorrow. Ok?"

"Ok." He sighed. "But tomorrow?"

"Soon as they open…Ms. Redman?" Wayne turned to Iris who smiled and nodded.

"Sure. I'll arrange it. Well, Henry…" she eyed the boy. "You want to stay with Mr. Wayne tonight? I can take you to my house if you prefer?"

"No. Thank you." Henry shook head. "I'd like to stay with Mr. Wayne and Mr. Alfred."

"Ok, then. Well…I'm going to find my husband and get on home. I'll call you tomorrow, Mr. Wayne." Ms. Redman nodded to Wayne.

"Thanks for everything…" he smiled, offering a hand which she shook.

"We may yet regret this…" she grinned. "Still…What the hell…Henry, you have a good night and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night." Henry nodded, she waving as she headed back through to the rear of the station.

"Well, lets be off…You two both should be in bed." Alfred insisted.

"Sounds good. Henry, you hungry? I know a take-out place where we can pick up a burger on our way." Wayne suggested.

"Better if I prepare something…" Alfred shook head. "Far too late for fat and salt with a little protein."

"No better time, this…" Wayne grinned. "And you're off duty…Come on, Alfred. You like their milkshakes…Lets go, guys."


	12. Chapter 12

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part XII...

Red leather (Genu-ine imitation…Bruce had noted to Moe's proud nod… "And a relief to know no animal is bred to give red leather…" Danielle had nodded…) upholstered booth in Moe's Silver Eagle diner, "the best in Gotham State", on Gotham State Parkway, alongside the Gotham River…

"Not a bad view, really." Stare out the large window to the front. "You know my mother, God rest her soul…Good Catholic that she was…And we had to fight for it…" Danielle grinned at Bruce in brown sweater and slacks, across from her. "…would say that a girl can tell a man by the quality of the place he chooses to bring a woman. Not the price, mind you…" finger wag… "The quality. A flash-in-the-pan salesman type would take you somewhere flashy but not that expensive…And no quality." she took a fork of her "Silver Eagle recycled hash special" omelet… "A no-good with dough who wanted to get into your pants quick would take you somewhere exceptionally fancy and pricey, to put you under obligation…Oh, this is good…" she beamed, brushing curls back.

"Really…? Both as to mom and the omelet?" Bruce nodded, head on hand staring…

"Hmmn-hmmn…A nice solid fella will take you somewhere quality…But not flashy or too pricey…At least on the first dates. You save the really big stuff for the birthdays and anniversaries… And a cheap bastard will invite himself to your house and expect you to cook."

"Sounds about right…" he took a swig of orange juice from a plastic tumbler…Nodding to the bald figure of Moe, a middle-aged, husky bald fellow in white uniform at counter who nodded back after a glance at Danielle, thumb's up.

"Always go with the one who makes love well, she said…You can get round moneybags, the cheap bastard's got sense, the solid guy's reliable, and Mr. Flashy is usually good fun, for a fling…" she grinned.

"Yikes." He blinked. "So there's no hope for me…"

"We'll see…" she eyed him mock-sternly, looking him over. "She also said you generally can teach a guy whose heart's in the right place…"

"Thank you, Mrs. Dane…" he nodded, eyes turning heavenward.

"Equally important, a man who can choose a good diner. Well done." She nodded.

"I was pretty sure Moe wouldn't let me down. The kids always loved it. And Alfred approved."

"Kids like Mickey-D's, bless 'em…I'll go with Alfred's seal of approval." She took another bite.

"More coffee?" their waitress, a fortyish large woman with straight black hair and nose ring in white uniform with silver eagle namepin had returned.

"Sure…" Bruce nodded.

"Miss? Sorry to ask…" the waitress hesitated, Danielle offering smile. "One of the other girls was wondering? Are you on TV?"

"Once in a while…Just the local news. Hi…Danielle Dane." Smile.

"Hi…Claudia Holland. Yeah, Denise was sure it was you. She watches you whenever you're on. Just wanted to say hi and ask, sorry to interrupt."

"No problem." Danielle put up a hand. "Tell Denise thanks for watching…"

"Is he on TV too?" Claudia smiled at Bruce who grinned.

"Very rarely compared to Ms. Dane…" he nodded solemnly. "But I keep workin' at it."

"Ah…" appraising nod. "You'll get there…Thanks, guys. Let me know if you need anything." Claudia headed off.

"I'm with someone famous…" Bruce in low, sing-song voice.

"Shet up." Danielle mock-growled. "Not that I care for fame as a responsible journalist…" proudly arch look… "But it is sorta nice, at times…" grin. "Though I think she just wanted a closer look at you." Stern glance…Smile.

"So…" she eyed him, taking another forkful. "Before I meet the family…Oh, Lawd…How did Bruce Wayne wind up with two black foster kids…?"

"And a ward from a circus family…" grin… "If you can bear a long story…I actually enjoy telling it." Smile. "Too often, Pam sometimes says…"

"I'm a reporter, Bruce…Even if only the short TV attention-spanned variety…"

"Well…As to Pam and Henry, I don't know if you know about their grandfather…"

"Archibald Tuthill… Oh, I read the stories…Murdered…Almost certainly by Jackson Jensen but money and the 'almost' got Jensen off. How did you come into the picture…?"

"Luck…And Iris Redman…" he noted, pausing to take a forkful of blueberry pancakes…

"The Mayor…" she pondered his plate a second. "Yes, I will take a taste of those pancakes, thanks."

"Please…And yeah, now the mayor, then director of social services and one of the most decent and courageous people in government then and now."

"Potential candidate for governor, if she'd take the bit between her teeth and run…" Danielle eyed him. "Is that what you're meeting her about?"

"I've hinted, suggested, asked, pleaded, about ten times each of the last three election cycles but she feels she's needed in Hamilton. And she is…But I'll keep tryin'. I will put in my usual plea but it's a bit more than that today." He lifted a pancake to her plate with fork, she eagerly accepting…

"I tell myself if I pig out at breakfast it's better…Hah, I'm sure…" she sighed, taking the bottle of syrup he offered.

"This is where you do Ashley Wilkes minus the Gone With the Wind racism and tell me you like to see a girl with a healthy appetite…" she noted, chewing.

"I dunno…Hafta see if you try to eat the whole table…" he shook head.

"Hungry enough to…" sigh.

"Then you've got to come to Alfred's Brit barbecque on Sunday at my place… He always piles it on."

"Hmmn…" narrow look. "Steak and kidney pie with a dollop of barbecque sauce…?"

"And bangers and mash…Likewise with barbecque sauce."

"Terrifying…" she gave look of mock-horror.

"You are a reporter…New experience…" he noted solemnly.

"I hate my job sometimes…" grin. "Ok, you got me…If they want me to come. I assume your kids are coming…? Well, the locals? I understand your other son's in medical school in LA?"

"Yep. They never miss it. And they will be dying to have a real chance to see you at close range. Dick's studying orthopedics, he'll be expecting details by phone…I'll leave that to Pam so your focus should be on her to win two of them over. Henry's more easygoing…"

"The lady of the house, eh? No doubt the one who'll set the high bar…"

"Pam's a lioness…" he nodded.

"Gulp. I take it they're generally not armed with regards to that 'close range'. Your place has plenty of room for disposing of girls not meeting expectations…"

"That explains all the holes in the yard I keep finding…" smile.

"Not wanting to take your attention off my pretty brown eyes…" she grinned.

"Very pretty…" he nodded, swallowing coffee from mug. "You want to know what 'bit more'?"

"Alex Knox has trained you well, Luke…" she intoned.

"You've been doing a story comparing the drop in crime rates in Hamilton and Gotham and how both cities achieved it."

"My bid for journalistic immortality…This year…Yeah?"

"I'm interested too…As is a friend of mine…"

She gave him serious look…

"That 'friend's gotta be either Batman or James Gordon, the Gotham commissioner, am I right?" she regarded him.

"Jim…Very good."

"Very interesting…Is he concerned about things in Hamilton? Is something going on?" she gave intent look.

"Hopefully, no."

"But it is a little too much of a success story, eh?" she leaned back, taking sip of juice. "I agree…It's been bothering me, actually, since I took this story. I mean, it's a wonderful redemption tale, but…"

"There's probably nothing to it…" he began…

"'Mob' City cleaned up in six years? Bruce, I'm starry-eyed and idealistic as the next progressive black recent college grad but even I hafta question that. Does Gordon think the mobs are still running the place, just keeping heads down and trash collected?"

"No…Not the mobs…But a mob might still be operating." He put up a finger. "I do not believe Iris would be in on anything, not for a moment."

"I agree. I met her only briefly to date but was impressed. But it could be going on, underground. It would make sense…It all doesn't just 'disappear' even with a good, clean city government and Batman putting in some appearances." She caught his look. "I had a few people I spoke to there saying that he's been seen around the city…Left a few calling-cards in the form of the unconscious wanted. Has he had anything to say on this?"

"Jim didn't say and I haven't heard from him."

"I see…Look, I don't mean to break the mood…"

"It's fine…It's your job…" he nodded. "If I'm in for the long haul, I'll need to expect it'll break in sometimes, as will my stuff."

"Well, I promise to try to get back to 'first real date' mode. Thanks for being patient with me."

"Like I say, it's likely to come up on my side too…" smile.

"God…" she blinked… "I heard something about 'long haul'?"

"Yeah…I kinda sorta like you, Danielle." He nodded. "And Alfred says you're a fine girl."

"You too." She agreed. Offering a hand which he shook solemnly.

"Moe mind if his customers kiss?" she asked, smiling.

"Depends on the tip…" he got out of seat and came over, she regarding him.

"Better leave a big one…" she noted, kissing him hard on the lips…He embracing her.

….


	13. Chapter 13

Tut the Magnificent…

Summary: A little reimagining of supervillain King Tut. A young genius, protégé of Gotham's prime benefactor, Bruce Wayne, distraught at the suffering in a place his hero Batman never deigns to frequent, has decided to help his people help themselves.

Part XIII...

Wayne Manor, thirteen years previous…

Nine year old Henry Tuthill, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth seated at long table in the Great Hall, eating hamburgers and milkshakes…And a salad, insisted on by Alfred. Henry marveling at the size of the room…And the pieces about it, including. and especially, two suits of armor.

"They real?" he asked Bruce, setting down burger and taking sip from his milkshake.

"My father thought so…And far as the guy who insures the house and the stuff knows, yeah." Bruce nodded. "They're from the 15th and late 16tn centuries, that one's from Spain…Really good steel plate….And the other from France…See the fancy design work on the face plate. The French knights like to fight in style. And as you can see, they were sorta short guys."

"Bad nutrition… The English beat em at Crecy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. The One Hundred Years War…" Henry noted, moving to sip at his shake and take a fork of salad.

"Quite so. Very good, Henry…" Alfred nodded.

"You've just won Alfred's undying love…" Bruce grinned, grabbing and eating a handful of fries.

"Well, we were rather land pirates in that conflict." Alfred sighed. "And the French still resent us a bit over it, though the last major wars did patch things up a bit. Did you study that in school or with your grandfather?"

"Grandpa tole me about it and I read about it. School doesn't cover that yet. But I like to read for myself." Henry looked round. "You must gotta big library here."

"Very…" Bruce agreed. "And some really good books on History and Science, including some of your grandfather's and some old stuff if you wanna take a gander."

"Tomorrow…" Alfred insisted. "We may be fresh as daisies, Henry, but Bruce is up well past his bedtime."

"So I am…But every now and then Alfred lets me stay up for something special, like meeting you, Henry." Bruce noted.

"Come on…You're both messin' with me." Henry smiled. "You're grown up."

"Still in need of someone to watch over him, I'm afraid. We all are, I suppose." Alfred nodded.

"You watch over Alfred?" Henry asked Bruce.

"As much as he'll let me. As you saw tonight, he's plenty tough."

Henry nodded, smiling at Alfred. Then, after taking another bite of burger…

"But I'm really not tired yet. Could I see the library after we eat? Just for a minute?"

Bruce glanced at Alfred, who sighed but nodded.

"Just for a few minutes. You two both need to get to bed."

"Wish I had my Tut book…" Henry sighed. "Do you have books on King Tut?"

"As a matter of fact, I have the account of the expedition that opened his tomb…My dad bought the original manuscript." Bruce nodded, smiling at Henry's quick look. "And that book your grandfather contributed to on the Pharoahs."

"Yeah, that's a good one. Can I see the other one, about opening the tomb? That must be neat." Eager smile, pushing glasses up on nose.

"Sure…After we finish. So Tut's one of your history interests?" Bruce asked.

"He was a hero, tried to help his people but died too young." Henry noted. "Grandpa said he was might have been a great leader if he'd lived. Helped keep Egypt strong and fought off the bad guys invading."

"Maybe…Hard to say given he died so young." Bruce, thoughtfully.

"He needed more time. But maybe one day he'll come back and finish his work. His spirit, maybe."

"Like reincarnation?" Bruce asked.

"Sorta…But I don't believe in the idea of people coming back…Just his spirit might." Henry noted.

"I think sometimes the spirit does come back…At least I hope so." Bruce agreed.

"Was the book you had by your grandfather?" Alfred asked.

"No, a history friend of his, but Grandpa wrote the introduction…Professor Chartes signed it for him for me." Henry explained, taking another bite of burger. "These are good."

"I know my Gotham burgers. Is it at your house?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah…" nod. "Maybe we could get it tomorrow?"

"Sure…And some of your other stuff…We'll drop by when we go in to see your sister."

Henry nodded, wan smile…Pulling burger over again for another bite… "Thanks, Bruce."

"No prob…" Bruce smiled, pulling his own burger and salad over…

Henry regarded the room again, then Bruce, carefully… "Is it really true? About your mom and dad?"

"That they were killed? Yeah." Bruce nodded.

"I'm sorry." Henry, gravely.

"I'm sorry about your Grandpa…It's tough, I know, Henry. If you want to talk to anyone, me or Alfred or somebody about it…When you feel up to it. I know it helped me deal with things some."

Thoughtful nod… "Grief counseling is supposed to help, I read about it before."

"It can…It doesn't really make it go away. But it helps…Some…"

"What else helps?" Henry asked, careful regard, slight pleading look.

"Doing useful work, keeping things going…Remembering them and trying to live the way you know they'd want you to." Bruce, firm tone.

"I think so too." Henry, solemnly, taking a long draw from his milkshake.

"And of course helping those who are still with us…" Alfred noted, gently.

"Yeah…" Henry nodded. "But you only have Alfred?" he eyed Bruce.

"Well, Alfred's my other father, really…So I have two dads." Alfred eyeing him quietly. "And I've some good friends. I try to help others when I can…Alfred helps me with that, as do some other friends. And I have an adopted son, Dick Grayson. He's in California now studying medicine."

"His family got killed too, didn't they? The stories about you say so…"

"I'm afraid so…But Dick's a great guy. I hope you'll get to meet him soon."

"He wants to be a doctor to help people?" Henry, curious.

"And to honor his family…They were acrobats so he wants to study orthopedics and help fix people's injuries." Bruce explained. "And we suspect, figure out how to do even neater stunts than his family did, to keep their rep going, you know?"

"That's neat…" Henry nodded. "The study of the bones…And how they work. That's really something…"

"I think so. Dick's pretty modest about it. But I know I couldn't handle the work." Bruce smiled. "Alfred got him through college…I wasn't much help."

"Well, Master Dick has a keen mind. Once he applied himself there was no limit to what he could do." Alfred fondly. "But it is very hard work, indeed. We're both very proud of him."

"Must be tough." Nod. "I think I'd like to do Neurobiology research though, not be a doctor I think I could help more people back home that way." Henry noted. "Find a way to help them with drugs and stuff."

"I think you will." Bruce nodded. Alfred watching both quietly.

"But you must also try to find some happiness, Henry." Alfred noted firmly. "Both of you…Work and commitment to others is very fine but we need happiness and joy in our lives. I wish sometimes Master Bruce would learn that lesson as well as Master Dick has."

Henry eyeing him…

"Well, Henry? If by your look you mean to ask me if I'm happy…I am." Alfred smiled. "I love my family back in England, see them often as I can, and I have a son and grandson I'm very proud of here." Smile at Bruce. "Try to find happiness, Henry…It's what connects you to others, even more than helping them."

Henry nodded.

"Well, since you're both finished, I see, why don't we show Henry the library…Quickly…And get you both off to bed." Alfred, rising with his plate and cup. "We'll want to be out tomorrow as soon as we can to see your sister, Henry."

"Yeah…" Henry rose, taking plate and cup, Bruce following…

"So is your historical interest strictly in Egypt, Henry? I'm rather partial to Roman history myself." Alfred asked as they set plates in sink and tossed garbage in a basket beside the sink.

…

Dick Grayson's bedroom…

"Hope this will do, Henry." Bruce told the boy standing in the room. "There are others but this is kept pretty fresh. Plus it's all guy…Dick didn't like frills and my mom tended to a few frills in a lot of the other rooms."

"It's neat…" Henry smiled, beaming at a few rigged ship and airplane models hanging and the maps on the wall.

"A lot of the maps are of places the Graysons toured in…Dick liked to keep them to remember those days." Bruce noted. "The ships are pretty authentic. Dick and I spent a lot of time on getting them right…" Noting Alfred's look. "Ok, Dick did most of the work…" grin to Henry's smile. "…And those two planes actually do fly…Maybe tomorrow or Sunday we can try them out."

"That would be nice…I'd like to do some work in the library too, though, if it's ok. I want to get my school work done for Monday and read some things."

"Sure…" Bruce nodded. "Though you may need to wait a day or two before you go back to school. Ms. Redman and I may need to straighten things out…"

"But you and I can study together if that happens, Henry." Alfred put in at Henry's slight downcast… "I used to tutor Bruce, you won't fall behind. Though I would guess you're at the top of your class."

"They put me a couple of grades up…But I don't wanna fall back. It's too boring in my grade, even at the Academy."

"Hamilton-Woodyard's a topnotch school." Bruce nodded. "Your grandpa had the right idea getting you in there."

"I don't want to let him down." Henry, firmly. "If I can't go back Monday, I'd like to study with Mr. Alfred, if it's ok."

"Absolutely." Bruce nodded. "Just don't let him get too hard on you. You know I think Alfred was the model for Captain Bligh."

"The captain of the Bounty…" Henry eyed Alfred. "No, Mr. Alfred's a fair man."

"Thank you, Henry. That earns bonus points." Alfred smiled. "Well, if you're all set, we should say good night and I'll have this one get to bed as well. See you in the morning."

"Good night, thanks." Henry called. "Thank you, Bruce." He came to Wayne at the door and hugged him.

"Anytime, Henry." Bruce beamed, patting him as the boy looked up. "Anytime."

"I won't let you down either…" Henry told him, looking up. "I promise."

"I believe you 100 percent. But you don't have to…Just do good work you enjoy and like Alfred says, try to be happy." Wayne smiled. "See ya in the morning and we'll head out to see Pam."

….

Wayne's personal study…

Where he and Alfred had retired to for a quick before-bed brandy after settling Henry…

"That's quite a kid, Alfred." Bruce shook head. "He's got to be a genius…To put it mildly…He's operating on college level at least."

"I should say so…" Alfred sighed.

"Alfred?"

"It troubles me that the boy is so like you, Bruce, at his age. You both take the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Sometimes it can't be avoided, Alfred." Wayne pointed out. "And no more for me than Jim Gordon or a hundred other men and women trying to make Gotham a decent place to live."

"Yes…But none with quite such single-mindedness…And I mean that in the worst sense of the word, not the best…"

"I do try to be happy, Alfred. Circumstances, you know?"

"Yes…" the older man sighed, swirling brandy in glass. "But there are always excuses and the ends always justify the means…"

"I won't ever become what I hate, trying to fight it…" Bruce noted. "You and Jim and Dick and the examples before me, in Gotham State Pen and the Asylum keep me grounded."

"I hope so, Bruce." Alfred nodded. "And I hope we can be of help here, to this poor boy and his sister, perhaps to what extent we can, their mother."

"We'll try." Bruce sighed. "With a little luck, we'll succeed. There are odds in our favor and we're not alone here."

"Yes…Good thing, not to be alone…In the fight and in life…" Alfred, shrewdly. Finishing his glass…

"You never quit, Pennyworth." Bruce grinned. "Thank God."

"No, not while breath remains in this body." Alfred agreed.

"Thanks, Dad." Bruce looked up at him. "I'm honored."

"You've never disappointed me, Bruce. And I'm the one honored, thank you." He paused...

"What did Ms. Redman think? About us keeping the children? Especially away from the Jensens…"

Sigh from Bruce…

"It may be tough, she thinks. We should expect mud thrown and hands out to grab what can be grabbed. One advantage we have is Jensen Sr. wants to save his son. And prefers not to have this get into the news for his daughter and heir's sake."

"Strange fellow…" Alfred reflected. "He pushed his son away to toughen him by his lights, you say. Then gave up on him when he rejected him …But now."

"I suppose Jensen's good at seeming so, but I think he's sincere. He cares about that boy of his…"

"Yes…It does sound so." Alfred nodded. "Can we count on his word not to interfere with the children?"

"So far as it goes, I think so. But not if the boy is in more trouble. I'll have to do what I can…"

"…to defend a murderer? Professor Tuthill's killer?"

"I don't know for sure if it was him. He denied it and of course he would but he seemed to be telling the truth." Bruce, thoughtfully.

Alfred, a bit concerned, straightening in his chair…. "Then the mother, Anna?..."

"I don't know…" Bruce sighed. "If we have to, she's not likely to get jail time, given her condition, if she has a good lawyer."

"Again we see the power of money in a good cause…" Alfred a bit wryly. "But do you believe the mother was the killer?"

"Unless someone else was there, there aren't many alternatives…"

"Indeed…" Alfred, quietly. "Well, as you say, the punishment would consider her condition…It might be for the best, if she avoids jail and gets treatment. Is that possible?"

"Depends on just how good the lawyer is and how weak the circumstantial evidence…" Bruce shrugged.

"I suppose you believe young Henry saw more than he's told us…" Alfred, carefully.

"Yes." Bruce nodded. "But I'm not going to press him unless I have to. The problem is if Jensen decides he has to, to help his son."

"Well, best to leave this for the morrow and as I promised Henry to get you to bed…" Alfred eyed him. "Pray there'll be no need for your counterpart tonight."

"I should've said I have a second Mom and Dad…" Bruce grinned.

"As to either, I am truly honored, Bruce." Alfred smiled.


End file.
